































ZISKA 


THE PROBLEM OF A WICKED SOUL 


Other Books by the same Author 


THE SORROWS OF SATAN 
BARABBAS 

A ROMANCE OF TWO WORLDS 
THE MIGHTY ATOM, Etc., Etc. 


/ 


ZISKA 


PROBLEM OF A WICKED SOUL 


BY 

MARIE CORELLI 



NEW YORK 
STONE & KIMBALL 


M DCCC XCVII 


V 



A Dramatic Version of this Story has been duly 
copyrighted in Great Britain and the United States 


COPYRIGHT, 1897, BY 
STONE AND KIMBALL 


5*3 



f 


TO THE 

PRESENT LIVING RE-INCARNATION 

OF 

AR AXES 


-$• 



ZISKA. 


THE PROBLEM OF A WICKED SOUL. 


PROLOGUE. 

Dark against the sky towered the Great 
Pyramid, and over its apex hung the moon. 
Like a wreck cast ashore by some titanic 
storm, the Sphinx, reposing amid the un- 
dulating waves of grayish sand surrounding 
it, seemed for once to drowse. Its solemn 
visage that had impassively watched ages 
come and go, empires rise and fall, and 
generations of men live and die, appeared 
for the moment to have lost its usual ex- 
pression of speculative wisdom and intense 
disdain — its cold eyes seemed to droop, its 
stern mouth almost smiled. The air was 
calm and sultry ; and not a human foot dis- 
turbed the silence. But towards midnight 
a Voice suddenly arose as it were like a 
wind in the desert, crying aloud : “Araxes! 
7 


r 


CHAPTER I. 


It was the full “ season ” in Cairo. The 
ubiquitous Britisher and the no less ubiqui- 
tous American had planted their differing 
“ society ” standards on the sandy soil wa- 
tered by the Nile, and were busily engaged 
in the work of reducing the city, formerly 
called A1 Kahira or The Victorious, to a more 
deplorable condition of subjection and slav- 
ery than any old-world conqueror could ever 
have done. For the heavy yoke of modern 
fashion has been flung on the neck of A1 
Kahira, and the irresistible, tyrannic domin- 
ion of “ swagger " vulgarity has laid The 
Victorious low. The swarthy children of 
the desert might, and possibly would, be 
ready and willing to go forth and fight men 
with men's weapons for the freedom to live 
and die unmolested in their own native 
land ; but against the blandly-smiling, white- 
helmeted, sun-spectacled, perspiring horde 
of Cook's “ cheap trippers," what can they 
do save remain inert and well-nigh speech- 


12 


ZISKA 


less ? For nothing like the cheap tripper 
was ever seen in the world till our present 
enlightened and glorious day of progress ; 
he is a new-grafted type of nomad, like 
and yet unlike a man. The Darwin theory 
asserts itself proudly and prominently in 
bristles of truth all over him — in his restless- 
ness, his ape-like agility and curiosity, his 
shameless inquisitiveness, his careful cleans- 
ing of himself from foreign fleas, his general 
attention to minutiae, and his always vora- 
cious appetite ; and where the ape ends and 
the man begins is somewhat difficult to dis- 
cover. The “ image of God ” wherewith he, 
together with his fellows, was originally sup- 
posed to be impressed in the first fresh days 
of Creation, seems fairly blotted out, for 
there is no touch of the Divine in his mortal 
composition. Nor does the second created 
phase — the copy of the Divine — namely, the 
Heroic, — dignify his form or ennoble his 
countenance. There is nothing of the heroic 
in the wandering biped who swings through 
the streets of Cairo in white flannels, laugh- 
ing at the staid composure of the Arabs, flick- 
ing thumb and finger at the patient noses of 
the small hireable donkeys and other beasts 
of burden, thrusting a warm red face of in- 
quiry into the shadowy recesses of odorifer- 


ZISKA 


13 


ous bazaars, and sauntering at evening in 
the Esbekiyeh Gardens, cigar in mouth and 
hands in pockets, looking on the scene and 
behaving in it as if the whole place were but 
a reflex of Earl’s Court Exhibition. History 
affects the cheap tripper not at all ; he 
regards the Pyramids as “ good building” 
merely, and the inscrutable Sphinx itself as 
a fine target for empty soda-water bottles, 
while perhaps his chiefest regret is that the 
granite whereof the ancient monster is hewn 
is too hard for him to inscribe his distin- 
guished name thereon. It is true that there 
is a punishment inflicted on any person or 
persons attempting such wanton work — a 
fine or the bastinado ; yet neither fine nor 
bastinado would affect the “ tripper” if he 
could only succeed in carving “ ’Arry ” on 
the Sphinx’s jaw. But he cannot, and here- 
in is his own misery. Otherwise he com- 
ports himself in Egypt as he does at Mar- 
gate, with no more thought, reflection, or 
reverence than dignify the composition of 
his far-off Simian ancestor. 

Taking him all in all, he is, however, no 
worse, and in some respects better, than the 
“ swagger ” folk who “ do ” Egypt, or rather, 
consent in a languid way to be “ done ” by 
Egypt. These are the people who annually 


14 


ZISKA 


leave England on the plea of being unable to 
stand the cheery, frosty, and in every respect 
healthy winter of their native country — that 
winter, which with its wild winds, its spark- 
ling frost and snow, its holly trees bright 
with scarlet berries, its merry hunters gal- 
loping over field and moor during daylight 
hours, and its great log fires roaring up the 
chimneys at evening, was sufficiently good 
for their forefathers to thrive upon and live 
through contentedly up to a hale and hearty 
old age in the times when the fever of travel- 
ling from place to place was an unknown 
disease, and home was indeed “ sweet home.” 
Infected by strange maladies of the blood 
and nerves, to which even scientific physi- 
cians find it hard to give suitable names, 
they shudder at the first whiff of cold, and 
filling huge trunks with a thousand foolish 
things which have, through luxurious habit, 
become necessities to their pallid existences, 
they hastily depart to the Land of the Sun, 
carrying with them their nameless languors, 
discontents and incurable illnesses, for which 
Heaven itself, much less Egypt, could pro- 
vide no remedy. It is not at all to be won- 
dered at that these physically and morally 
sick tribes of human kind have ceased to 
give any serious attention as to what may 


ZISKA 


15 


possibly become of them after death, or 
whether there is any “ after,” for they are 
in the mentally comatose condition which 
precedes entire wreckage of brain-force ; 
existence itself has become a “ bore ; ” one 
place is like another, and they repeat the 
same monotonous round of living in every 
spot where they congregate, whether it be 
east, west, north, or south. On the Riviera 
they find little to do except meet at Rum- 
pelmayer’s at Cannes, the London House at 
Nice, or the Casino at Monte-Carlo ; and in 
Cairo they inaugurate a miniature London 
“ season ” over again, worked in the same 
groove of dinners, dances, drives, picnics, 
flirtations, and matrimonial engagements. 
But the Cairene season has perhaps some 
advantage over the London one so far as 
this particular set of “ swagger” folk are 
concerned — it is less hampered by the pro- 
prieties. One can be more “ free,” you 
know! You may take a little walk into 
“ Old ” Cairo, and turning a corner you may 
catch glimpses of what Mark Twain calls 
“ Oriental simplicity,” namely, picturesquely- 
composed groups of “ dear delightful ” Arabs 
whose clothing is no more than primitive 
custom makes strictly necessary. These 
kind of “ tableaux vivants ” or “ art studies” 


i6 


ZISKA 


give quite a thrill of novelty to Cairene- 
English Society, — a touch of savagery, — a 
soupqon of peculiarity which is entirely lack- 
ing to fashionable London. Then, it must 
be remembered that the “ children of the 
desert ” have been led by gentle degrees to 
understand that for harboring the strange 
locusts imported into their land by Cook, 
and the still stranger specimens of unclassi- 
fied insect called Upper Ten, which imports 
itself, they will receive “ backsheesh.” 

“ Backsheesh ” is a certain source of com- 
fort to all nations, and translates itself 
with sweetest euphony into all languages, 
and the desert-born tribes have justice on 
their side when they demand as much of 
it as they can get, rightfully or wrong- 
fully. They deserve to gain some sort of 
advantage out of the odd-looking swarms 
of Western invaders who amaze them by 
their dress and affront them by their 
manners. “ Backsheesh,” therefore, has 
become the perpetual cry of the Desert- 
Born, — it is the only means of offence and 
defence left to them, and very naturally they 
cling to it with fervor and resolution. And 
who shall blame them ? The tall, majestic, 
meditative Arab — superb as mere man, and 
standing naked-footed on his sandy native 


ZISKA 


1 7 


soil, with his one rough garment flung round 
his loins and his great black eyes fronting, 
eagle-like, the sun — merits something con- 
siderable for condescending to act as guide 
and servant to the Western moneyed civilian 
who clothes his lower limbs in straight, fun- 
nel-like cloth casings, shaped to the strict re- 
semblance of an elephants legs, and finishes 
the graceful design by enclosing the rest of 
his body in a stiff shirt wherein he can 
scarcely move, and a square-cut coat which 
divides him neatly in twain by a line imme- 
diately above the knee, with the effect of 
lessening his height by several inches. The 
Desert-Born surveys him gravely and in civil 
compassion, sometimes with a muttered 
prayer against the hideousness of him, but 
on the whole with patience and equanimity, 
— influenced by considerations of “ back- 
sheesh/' And the English “ season ” whirls 
lightly and vaporously, like blown egg-froth, 
over the mystic land of the old gods, — the 
terrible land filled with dark secrets as yet 
unexplored, — the land “ shadowing with 
wings," as the Bible hath it, — the land in 
which are buried tremendous histories as yet 
unguessed, — profound enigmas of the super- 
natural, — labyrinths of wonder, terror and 
mystery, — all of which remain unrevealed to 
2 


i8 


ZISKA 


the giddy-pated, dancing, dining, gabbling 
throng of the fashionable travelling lunatics 
of the day, — the people who “ never think 
because it is too much trouble/' people 
whose one idea is to journey from hotel to 
hotel and compare notes with their acquaint- 
ances afterwards as to which house provided 
them with the best-cooked food. For it is 
a noticeable fact that with most visitors to 
the “ show ” places of Europe and the East, 
food, bedding and selfish personal comfort 
are the first considerations, — the scenery and 
the associations come last. Formerly the 
position was reversed. In the days when 
there were no railways, and the immortal 
Byron wrote his Childe Harold, it was cus- 
tomary to rate personal inconvenience 
lightly ; the beautiful or historic scene was 
the attraction for the traveller, and not the 
arrangements made for his special form of 
digestive apparatus. Byron could sleep on 
the deck of a sailing vessel wrapped in his 
cloak and feel none the worse for it; his 
well-braced mind and aspiring spirit soared 
above all bodily discomforts ; his thoughts 
were engrossed with the mighty teachings of 
time; he was able to lose himself in glorious 
reveries on the lessons of the past and the 
possibilities of the future ; the attitude of 


ZISKA 


19 


the inspired Thinker as well as Poet was his, 
and a crust of bread and cheese served him 
as sufficiently on his journeyings among 
the then unspoilt valleys and mountains of 
Switzerland as the warm, greasy, indigest- 
ible fare of the elaborate table-d' hdtes at 
Lucerne and Interlaken serve us now. But 
we, in our “ superior ” condition, pooh-pooh 
the Byronic spirit of indifference to events 
and scorn of trifles, — we say it is “ melo- 
dramatic, completely forgetting that our 
attitude towards ourselves and things in 
general is one of most pitiable bathos. We 
cannot write Childe Harold , but we can 
grumble at both bed and board in every 
hotel under the sun ; we can discover teas- 
ing midges in the air and questionable in- 
sects in the rooms ; and we can discuss each 
bill presented to us with an industrious per- 
sistence which nearly drives landlords frantic 
and ourselves as well. In these kind of im- 
portant matters we are indeed “ superior ” to 
Byron and other ranting dreamers of his 
type, but we produce no Childe Harolds , 
and we have come to the strange pass of pre- 
tending that Don Juan is improper, while 
we pore over Zola with avidity ! To such 
a pitch has our culture brought us ! And, 
like the Pharisee in the Testament, we thank 


20 


ZISKA 


God we are not as others are. We are glad 
we are not as the Arab, as the African, as 
the Hindoo; we are proud of our elephant- 
legs and our dividing coat-line ; these things 
show we are civilized, and that God approves 
of us more than any other type of creature 
ever created. We take possession of nations, 
not by thunder of war, but by clatter of din- 
ner-plates. We do not raise armies, we build 
hotels ; and we settle ourselves in Egypt as 
we do at Homburg, to dress and dine and 
sleep and sniff contempt on all things but 
ourselves, to such an extent that we have 
actually got into the habit of calling the 
natives of the places we usurp “ foreigners.” 
We are the foreigners ; but somehow we 
never can see it. Wherever we condescend 
to build hotels, that spot we consider ours. 
We are surprised at the impertinence of 
Frankfort people who presume to visit 
Homburg while we are having our “ season ” 
there ; we wonder how they dare do it ! 
And, of a truth, they seem amazed at their 
own boldness, and creep shyly through the 
Kur-Garten as though fearing to be turned 
out by the custodians. The same thing 
occurs in Egypt ; we are frequently as- 
tounded at what we call “ the impertinence 
of these foreigners,” i.e. the natives. They 


ZISKA 


21 


ought to be proud to have us and our ele- 
phant-legs ; glad to see such noble and beau- 
tiful types of civilization as the stout parvenu 
with his pendant paunch, and his family of 
gawky youths and maidens of the large- 
toothed, long-limbed genus ; glad to see the 
English “ mamma/' who never grows old, 
but wears young hair in innocent curls, 
and has her wrinkles annually “ massaged" 
out by a Paris artiste in complexion. The 
Desert-Born, we say, should be happy and 
grateful to see such sights, and not demand 
so much “ backsheesh." In fact, the Desert- 
Born should not get so much in our way as 
he does ; he is a very good servant, of course, 
but as a man and a brother — pooh ! Egypt 
may be his country, and he may love it as 
much as we love England ; but our feelings 
are more to be considered than his, and there 
is no connecting link of human sympathy 
between Elephant-Legs and sun-browned 
Nudity ! 

So at least thought Sir Chetwynd Lyle, a 
stout gentleman of coarse build and coarser 
physiognomy, as he sat in a deep arm-chair 
in the great hall or lounge of the Gezireh 
Palace Hotel, smoking after dinner in the 
company of two or three acquaintances with 
whom he had fraternized during his stay in 


22 


ZISKA 


Cairo. Sir Chetwynd was fond of airing his 
opinions for the benefit of as many people 
who cared to listen to him, and Sir Chetwynd 
had some right to his opinions, inasmuch as 
he was the editor and proprietor of a large 
London newspaper. His knighthood was 
quite a recent distinction, and nobody knew 
exactly how he had managed to get it. He 
had originally been known in Fleet Street 
by the irreverent sobriquet of “ greasy Chet- 
wynd, M owing to his largeness, oiliness and 
general air of blandly-meaningless benev- 
olence. He had a wife and two daughters, 
and one of his objects in wintering at Cairo 
was to get his cherished children married. 
It was time, for the bloom was slightly off 
the fair girl-roses, — the dainty petals of the 
delicate buds were beginning to wither. 
And Sir Chetwynd had heard much of Cairo ; 
he understood that there was a great deal 
of liberty allowed there between men and 
maids, — that they went out together on 
driving excursions to the Pyramids, that 
they rode on lilliputian donkeys over the 
sand at moonlight, that they floated about 
in boats at evening on the Nile, and that, 
in short, there were more opportunities of 
marriage among the “ flesh-pots of Egypt ” 
than in all the rush and crush of London. 


ZISKA 


23 


So here he was, portly and comfortable, and 
on the whole well satisfied with his expedi- 
tion ; there were a good many eligible bach- 
elors about, and Muriel and Dolly were really 
doing their best. So was their mother, Lady 
Chetwynd Lyle ; she allowed no “eligible ” 
to escape her hawk-like observation, and on 
this particular evening she was in all her 
glory, for there was to be a costume ball at 
the Gezireh Palace Hotel, — a superb affair, 
organized by the proprietors for the amuse- 
ment of their paying guests, who certainly 
paid well, — even stiffly. Owing to the prep- 
arations that were going on for this festivity, 
the lounge, with its sumptuous Egyptian 
decorations and luxurious modern fittings, 
was well-nigh deserted save for Sir Chetwynd 
and his particular group of friends, to whom 
he was holding forth, between slow cigar- 
puffs, on the squalor of the Arabs, the fright- 
ful thievery of the Sheiks, the incompetency 
of his own special dragoman, and the mis- 
take people made in thinking the Egyptians 
themselves a fine race. 

“ They are tall, certainly,” said Sir Chet- 
wynd, surveying his paunch, which lolled 
comfortably, and as it were by itself, in front 
of him, like a kind of waistcoated air-balloon. 
“ I grant you they are tall. That is, the 


24 


ZISKA 


majority of them are. But I have seen short 
men among them. The Khedive is not 
taller than I am. And the Egyptian face 
is very deceptive. The features are often 
fine, — occasionally classic, — but intelligent 
expression is totally lacking.” 

Here Sir Chetwynd waved his cigar de- 
scriptively, as though he would fain suggest 
that a heavy jaw, a fat nose with a pimple at 
the end, and a gross mouth with black teeth 
inside it, which were special points in his 
own physiognomy, went further to make 
up “ intelligent expression ” than any well- 
moulded, straight, Eastern type of sun- 
browned countenance ever seen or imagined. 

“ Well, I don't quite agree with you there,” 
said a man who was lying full length on one 
of the divans close by and smoking. “ These 
brown chaps have deuced fine eyes. There 
doesn't seem to be any lack of expression in 
them. And that reminds me, there is at 
fellow arrived here to-day who looks for all 
the world like an Egyptian, of the best form. 
He is a Frenchman, though ; a Provencal, 
— every one knows him, — he is the famous 
painter, Armand Gervase.” 

“ Indeed ! ” — and Sir Chetwynd roused 
himself at the name — “ Armand Gervase ! 
The Armand Gervase ? ” 


ZISKA 


25 


“ The only one original/’ laughed the other. 
“ He’s come here to make studies of Eastern 
women. A rare old time he’ll have among 
them, I daresay ! He’s not famous for 
character. He ought to paint the Princess 
Ziska.” 

“ Ah, by-the-bye, I wanted to ask you 
about that lady. Does anyone know who 
she is? My wife is very anxious to find out 
whether she is — well — er — quite the proper 
person, you know ! When one has young 
girls, one cannot be too careful.” 

Ross Courtney, the man on the divan, got 
up slowly and stretched his long athletic 
limbs with a lazy enjoyment in the action. 
He was a sporting person with unhampered 
means and large estates in Scotland and Ire- 
land ; he lived a joyous, “ don’t-care ” life of 
wandering about the world in search of ad- 
ventures, and he had a scorn of civilized 
conventionalities — newspapers and their edi- 
tors among them. And whenever Sir Chet- 
wynd spoke of his “ young girls” he was 
moved to irreverent smiling, as he knew the 
youngest of the twain was at least thirty. 
He also recognized and avoided the wily 
traps and pitfalls set for him by Lady Chet- 
wynd Lyle in the hope that he would yield 
himself up a captive to the charms of Muriel 


26 


ZISKA 


or Dolly ; and as he thought of these two 
fair ones now and involuntarily compared 
them in his mind with the other woman 
just spoken of, the smile that had begun to 
hover on his lips deepened unconsciously 
till his handsome face was quite illumined 
with its mirth. 

“ Upon my word, I don’t think it matters 
who anybody is in Cairo ! ” he said with a 
fine carelessness. “ The people whose fami- 
lies are all guaranteed respectable are more 
lax in their behavior than the people one 
knows nothing about. As for the Princess 
Ziska, her extraordinary beauty and intelli- 
gence would give her the entree anywhere — 
even if she hadn’t money to back those 
qualities up.” 

“ She’s enormously wealthy, I hear,” said 
young Lord Fulkeward, another of the 
languid smokers, caressing his scarcely per- 
ceptible moustache. “ My mother thinks 
she is a divorcee.” 

Sir Chetwynd looked very serious, and 
shook his fat head solemnly. 

“ Well, there is nothing remarkable in be- 
ing divorced, you know,” laughed Ross 
Courtney. “ Nowadays it seems the natural 
and fitting end of marriage.” 

Sir Chetwynd looked graver still. He 


ZISKA 


27 


refused to be drawn into this kind of flip- 
pant conversation. He, at any rate, was 
respectably married ; he had no sympathy 
whatever with the larger majority of people 
whose marriages were a failure. 

“ There is no Prince Ziska then ? ” he in- 
quired. “ The name sounds to me of Russian 
origin, and I imagined — my wife also im- 
agined, — that the husband of the lady might 
very easily be in Russia while his wife's 
health might necessitate her wintering in 
Egypt. The Russian winter climate is incle- 
ment, I believe." 

“ That would be a very neat arrangement," 
yawned Lord Fulkeward. “ But my mother 
thinks not. My mother thinks there is not 
a husband at all, — that there never was a 
husband. In fact my mother has very strong 
convictions on the subject. But my mother 
intends to visit her all the same." 

“ She does ? Lady F ulkeward has decided 
on that? Oh, well, in that case! " — and Sir 
Chetwynd expanded his lower-chest air- 
balloon. “ Of course, Lady Chetwynd Lyle 
can no longer have any scruples on the sub- 
ject. If Lady Fulkeward visits the Princess 
there can be no doubt as to her actual status ." 

“Oh, I don’t know!" murmured Lord 
Fulkeward, stroking his downy lip. “You 


28 


ZISKA 


see my mother's rather an exceptional per- 
son. When the governor was alive she 
hardly ever went out anywhere, you know, 
and all the people who came to our house in 
Yorkshire had to bring their pedigrees with 
them, so to speak. It was beastly dull! 
But now my mother has taken to ‘ studying 
character,' don’cher know ; she likes all sorts 
of people about her, and the more mixed 
they are the more she is delighted with 
them. Fact, I assure you ! Quite a change 
has come over my mother since the poor old 
governor died ! " 

Ross Courtney looked amused. A change 
indeed had come over Lady Fulkeward — a 
change, sudden, mysterious and amazing to 
many of her former distinguished friends 
with “ pedigrees." In her husband’s life- 
time her hair had been a soft silver-gray ; 
her face pale, refined and serious ; her form 
full and matronly ; her step sober and dis- 
creet ; but two years after the death of the 
kindly and noble old lord who had cherished 
her as the apple of his eye and up to the 
last moment of his breath had thought her 
the most beautiful woman in England, she 
appeared with golden tresses, a peach-bloom 
complexion, and a figure which had been so 
massaged, rubbed, pressed and artistically 


ZISKA 


2 9 


corseted as to appear positively sylph-like. 
She danced like a fairy, she who had once 
been called “ old ” Lady Fulkeward ; she 
smoked cigarettes ; she laughed like a child 
at every trivial thing — any joke, however 
stale, flat and unprofitable, was sufficient to 
stir her light pulses to merriment ; and she 
flirted — oh, heavens ! — how she flirted ! — 
with a skill and a grace and a knowledge 
and an aplomb that nearly drove Muriel and 
Dolly Chetwynd Lyle frantic. They, poor 
things, were beaten out of the field alto- 
gether by her superior tact and art of 
“ fence,” and they hated her accordingly 
and called her in private a “ horrid old 
woman,” which perhaps, when her maid un- 
dressed her, she was. But she was having a 
distinctly “good time” in Cairo; she called 
her son, who was in delicate health, “ my 
poor dear little boy ! ” and he, though twen- 
ty-eight on his last birthday, was reduced to 
such an abject condition of servitude by her 
assertiveness, impudent gayety and general 
freedom of manner, that he could not open 
his mouth without alluding to “ my mother,” 
and using “ my mother ” as a peg whereon 
to hang all his own opinions and emotions 
as well as the opinions and emotions of 
other people. ' 


30 


ZISKA 


“ Lady Fulkeward admires the Princess 
very much, I believe ?” said another lounger 
who had not yet spoken. 

“ Oh, as to that ! ” — and Lord Fulkeward 
roused himself to some faint show of energy. 
“Who wouldn’t admire her? By Jove! 
Only, I tell you what — there’s something 
weird about her eyes. Fact ! I don’t like 
her eyes.” 

“Shut up, Fulke! She has beautiful 
eyes ! ” burst out Courtney, hotly ; then 
flushing suddenly he bit his lips and was 
silent. 

“Who is this that has beautiful eyes?” 
suddenly demanded a slow, gruff voice, and 
a little thin gentleman, dressed in a kind of 
academic gown and cap, appeared on the 
scene. 

“ Hullo ! here’s our F.R.S.A. ! ” exclaimed 
Lord Fulkeward. “ By Jove ! Is that the 
style you have got yourself up in for to- 
night ? It looks awfully smart, don’cher 
know ! ” 

The personage thus complimented ad- 
justed his spectacles and surveyed his ac- 
quaintances with a very well-satisfied air. In 
truth, Dr. Maxwell Dean had some reason 
for self-satisfaction, if the knowledge that 
he possessed one of the cleverest heads in 


ZISKA 


31 


Europe could give a man cause for pride. 
He was apparently the only individual in 
the Gezireh Palace Hotel who had come to 
Egypt for any serious purpose. A purpose 
he had, though what it was he declined to 
explain. Reticent, often brusque, and some- 
times mysterious in his manner of speech, 
there was not the slightest doubt that he 
was at work on something, and that he also 
had a very trying habit of closely studying 
every object, small or great, that came 
under his observation. He studied the 
natives to such an extent that he knew 
every differing shade of color in their skins ; 
he studied Sir Chetwynd Lyle and knew 
that he occasionally took bribes to “put 
things ” into his paper ; he studied Dolly 
and Muriel Chetwynd Lyle, and knew that 
they would never succeed in getting hus- 
bands ; he studied Lady Fulkeward, and 
thought her very well got up for sixty ; he 
studied Ross Courtney, and knew he would 
never do anything but kill animals all his 
life ; and he studied the working of the 
Gezireh Palace Hotel, and saw a fortune ris- 
ing out of it for the proprietors. But apart 
from these ordinary surface things, he studied 
other matters — “ occult ” peculiarities of tem- 
perament, “ coincidences/' strange occur- 


32 


ZISKA 


rences generally. He could read the Egyp- 
tian hieroglyphs perfectly, and he under- 
stood the difference between “ royal car- 
touche ” scarabei and Birmingham-manufac- 
tured ones. He was never dull ; he had 
plenty to do ; and he took everything as it 
came in its turn. Even the costume ball for 
which he had now attired himself did not 
present itself to him as a “ bore/’ but as a 
new vein of information, opening to him fresh 
glimpses of the genus homo as seen in a state 
of eccentricity. 

“ I think/’ he now said, complacently, 
“ that the cap and gown look well for a man 
of my years. It is a simple garb, but cool, 
convenient and not unbecoming. I had 
thought at first of adopting the dress of an 
ancient Egyptian priest, but I find it diffi- 
cult to secure the complete outfit. I would 
never wear a costume of the kind that was 
not in every point historically correct. 

No one smiled. No one would have dared 
to smile at Dr. Maxwell Dean when he spoke 
of “ historically correct ” things. He had 
studied them as he had studied everything, 
and he knew all about them. 

Sir Chetwynd murmured : 

“ Quite right — er — the ancient designs 
were very elaborate ” 


ZISKA 


33 


“ And symbolic,” finished Dr. Dean. 
“ Symbolic of very curious meanings, I as- 
sure you. But I fear I have interrupted 
your talk. Mr. Courtney was speaking about 
somebody’s beautiful eyes ; who is the fair 
one in question ? ” 

“The Princess Ziska,” said Lord Fulke- 
ward. “ I was saying that I don’t quite like 
the look of her eyes.” 

“ Why not ? Why not ? ” demanded the 
doctor with sudden asperity. “ What’s the 
matter with them ? ” 

“ Everything’s the matter with them ! ” 
replied Ross Courtney with a forced laugh. 
“ They are too splendid and wild for Fulke ; 
he likes the English pale-blue better than 
the Egyptian gazelle-black.” 

“No, I don’t,” said Lord Fulkeward, 
speaking more animatedly than was custom- 
ary with him. “ I hate, pale-blue eyes. I 
prefer soft violet-gray ones, like Miss 
Murray’s.” 

“ Miss Helen Murray is a very charming 
young lady,” said Dr. Dean. “ But her 
beauty is quite of an ordinary type, while 
that of the Princess Ziska ” 

“ Is extra- ordinary — exactly ! That’s just 
what I say ! ” declared Courtney. “ I think 
she is the loveliest woman I have ever seen.” 

3 


34 


ZISKA 


There was a pause, during which the little 
doctor looked with a ferret-like curiosity 
from one man to the other. Sir Chetwynd 
Lyle rose ponderously up from the depths 
of his arm-chair. 

“ I think,” said he, “ I had better go and 
get into my uniform — the Windsor, you 
know ! I always have it with me wherever 
I go ; it comes in very useful for fancy balls 
such as the one we are going to have to- 
night, when no particular period is observed 
in costume. Isn’t it about time we all got 
ready ? ” 

“ Upon my life, I think it is!” agreed 
Lord Fulkeward. “ I am coming out as a 
Neapolitan fisherman ! I don’t believe Nea- 
politan fishermen ever really dress in the 
way I’m going to make up, but it’s the ac- 
cepted stage-type, don’cher know.” 

“Ah! I daresay you will look very well 
in it,” murmured Ross Courtney, vaguely. 
“ Hullo ! here comes Denzil Murray! ” 

They all turned instinctively to watch the 
entrance of a handsome young man, attired 
in the picturesque garb worn by Florentine 
nobles during the prosperous reign of the 
Medicis. It was a costume admirably adapt- 
ed to the wearer, who, being grave and 
almost stern of feature, needed the bright- 


ZISKA 


35 


ness of jewels and the gloss of velvet and satin 
to throw out the classic contour of his fine 
head and enhance the lustre of his brooding, 
darkly-passionate eyes. Denzil Murray was 
a pure-blooded Highlander, — the level brows, 
the firm lips, the straight, fearless look, all 
bespoke him a son of the heather-crowned 
mountains and a descendant of the proud 
races that scorned the “ Sassenach,” and 
retained sufficient of the material whereof 
their early Phoenician ancestors were made 
to be capable of both the extremes of hate 
and love in their most potent forms. He 
moved slowly towards the group of men 
awaiting his approach with a reserved air of 
something like hauteur ; it was possible he 
was conscious of his good looks, but it was 
equally evident that he did not desire to be 
made the object of impertinent remark. His 
friends silently recognized this, and only 
Lord Fulkeward, moved to a mild transport 
of admiration, ventured to comment on his 
appearance. 

“ I say, Denzil, you’re awfully well got up ! 
Awfully well ! Magnificent ! ” 

Denzil Murray bowed with a somewhat 
wearied and sarcastic air. 

“ When one is in Rome, or Egypt, one 
must do as Rome, or Egypt, does,” he 


36 


ZISKA 


said, carelessly. “ If hotel proprietors will 
give fancy balls, it is necessary to rise to 
the occasion. You look very well, Doctor. 
Why don’t you other fellows go and get 
your toggeries on? It’s past ten o’clock, 
and the Princess Ziska will be here by 
eleven.” 

“ There are other people coming besides 
the Princess Ziska, are there not, Mr. 
Murray ? ” inquired Sir Chetwynd Lyle, 
with an obtrusively bantering air. 

Denzil Murray glanced him over disdain- 
fully. 

“ I believe there are,” he answered coolly. 
“ Otherwise the ball would scarcely pay its 
expenses. But as the Princess is admittedly 
the most beautiful woman in Cairo this 
season, she will naturally be the centre of 
attraction. That’s why I mentioned she 
would be here at eleven.” 

“ She told you that ? ” inquired Ross 
Courtney. 

“ She did.” 

Courtney looked up, then down, and 
seemed about to speak again, but checked 
himself and finally strolled off, followed by 
Lord Fulkeward. 

“ I hear,” said Dr. Dean then, addressing 
Denzil Murray, “ that a great celebrity has 


ZISKA 


37 


arrived at this hotel — the painter, Armand 
Gervase.” 

Denzil’s face brightened instantly with a 
pleasant smile. 

“ The dearest friend I have in the world ! ” 
he said. “ Yes, he is here. I met him out- 
side the door this afternoon. We are very 
old chums. I have stayed with him in Paris, 
and he has stayed with me in Scotland. A 
charming fellow! He is very French in his 
ideas ; but he knows England well, and speaks 
English perfectly/' 

“ French in his ideas ! ” echoed Sir 
Chetwynd Lyle, who was just preparing to 
leave the lounge. “ Dear me ! How is 
that?” 

“ He is a Frenchman,” said Dr. Dean, 
suavely. “ Therefore that his ideas should 
be French ought not to be a matter of sur- 
prise to us, my dear Sir Chetwynd.” 

Sir Chetwynd snorted. He had a sus- 
picion that he — the editor and proprietor of 
the Daily Dial — was being laughed at, and 
he at once clambered on his high horse of 
British Morality. 

“ Frenchman or no Frenchman,” he ob- 
served, “ the ideas promulgated in France 
at the present day are distinctly profane and 
pernicious. There is a lack of principle — a 


38 


ZISKA 


want of rectitude in — er — the French Press, 
for example, that is highly deplorable/' 

‘‘And is the English Press immaculate? ” 
asked Denzil languidly. 

“ We hope so," replied Sir Chetwynd. 
“ We do our best to make it so." 

And with that remark he took his paunch 
and himself away into retirement, leaving 
Dr. Dean and young Murray facing each 
other, a singular pair enough in the contrast 
of their appearance and dress, — the one 
small, lean and wiry, in plain-cut, loose- 
flowing academic gown ; the other tall, 
broad and muscular, clad in the rich attire 
of mediaeval Florence, and looking for all 
the world like a fine picture of that period 
stepped out from its frame. There was a 
silence between them for a moment, — then 
the Doctor spoke in a low tone : 

“ It won't do, my dear boy, — I assure you 
it won’t do! You will break your heart 
over a dream, and make yourself miserable 
for nothing. And you will break your 
sister's heart as well ; perhaps you haven't 
thought of that ? " 

Denzil flung himself into the chair Sir 
Chetwynd had just vacated, and gave vent 
to a sigh that was almost a groan. 

“ Helen doesn’t know anything — yet," 


ZISKA 


39 


he said hoarsely. “ I know nothing myself ; 
how can I ? I haven’t said a word to — to 
her. If I spoke all that was in my mind, I 
daresay she would laugh at me. You are 
the only one who has guessed my secret. 
You saw me last night when I — when I ac- 
companied her home. But I never passed 
her palace gates, — she wouldn’t let me. She 
bade me 1 good-night ’ outside ; a servant 
admitted her, and she vanished through the 
portal like a witch or a ghost. Sometimes 
I fancy she is a ghost. She is so white, so 
light, so noiseless and so lovely ! ” 

He turned his eyes away, ashamed of the 
emotion that moved him. Dr. Maxwell 
Dean took off his academic cap and ex- 
amined its interior as though he considered 
it remarkable. 

“ Yes,” he said slowly ; “ I have thought 
the same thing of her myself — sometimes.” 

Further conversation was interrupted by 
the entrance of the military band of the 
evening, which now crossed the “ lounge,” 
each man carrying his instrument with him ; 
and these were followed by several groups 
of people in fancy dress, all ready and eager 
for the ball. Pierrots and Pierrettes, monks 
in drooping cowls, flower-girls, water-car- 
riers, symbolic figures of “ Night” and 


40 


ZISKA 


“ Morning,” mingled with the counterfeit 
presentments of dead-and-gone kings and 
queens, began to flock together, laughing 
and talking on their way to the ball-room ; 
and presently among them came a man 
whose superior height and build, combined 
with his eminently picturesque, half-savage 
type of beauty, caused every one to turn 
and watch him as he passed, and murmur 
whispering comments on the various qualities 
wherein he differed from themselves. He 
was attired for the occasion as a Bedouin 
chief, and his fierce black eyes, and close- 
curling, dark hair, combined with the nat- 
ural olive tint of his complexion, were well 
set off by the snowy folds of his turban and 
the whiteness of his entire costume, which 
was unrelieved by any color save at the waist, 
where a gleam of scarlet was shown in the 
sash which helped to fasten a murderous- 
looking dagger and other “ correct ” weap- 
ons of attack to his belt. He entered the 
hall with a swift and singularly light step, 
and made straight for Denzil Murray. 

“ Ah ! here you are ! ” he said, speaking 
English with a slight foreign accent, which 
was more agreeable to the ear than other- 
wise. “ But, my excellent boy, what mag- 
nificence ! A Medici costume ! Never say 


ZISKA 


41 


to me that you are not vain ; you are as 
conscious of your good looks as any pretty 
woman. Behold me, how simple and unob- 
trusive I am ! ” 

He laughed, and Murray sprang up from 
the chair where he had been despondently 
reclining. 

“ Oh, come, I like that ! ” he exclaimed. 
“ Simple and unobtrusive ! Why everybody 
is staring at you now as if you had dropped 
from the moon ! You cannot be Armand 
Gervase and simple and unobtrusive at the 
same time ! ” 

“ Why not?” demanded Gervase, lightly. 
“ Fame is capricious, and her trumpet is not 
loud enough to be heard all over the world 
at once. The venerable proprietor of the 
dirty bazaar where I managed to purchase 
these charming articles of Bedouin costume 
had never heard of me in his life. Miserable 
man ! He does not know what he has 
missed ! ” 

Here his flashing black eyes lit suddenly 
on Dr. Dean, who was “ studying” him in 
the same sort of pertinacious way in which 
that learned little man studied everything. 

“ A friend of yours, Denzil?” he in- 
quired. 

“Yes,” responded Murray readily; “a 


42 


ZISKA 


very great friend — Dr. Maxwell Dean. Dr. 
Dean, let me introduce to you Armand Ger- 
vase ; I need not explain him further ! ” 

“ You need not, indeed ! ” said the doctor, 
with a ceremonious bow. “ The name is 
one of universal celebrity/’ 

“ It is not always an advantage — this uni- 
versal celebrity,” replied Gervase. “ Nor 
is it true that any celebrity is actually univer- 
sal. Perhaps the only living person that is 
universally known, by name at least, is Zola. 
Mankind are at one in their appreciation of 
vice.” 

“ I cannot altogether agree with you 
there,” said Dr. Dean slowly, keeping his 
gaze fixed on the artist’s bold, proud features 
with singular curiosity. “ The French Acad- 
emy, I presume, are individually as appre- 
ciative of human weaknesses as most men ; 
but taken collectively, some spirit higher 
and stronger than their own keeps them 
unanimous in their rejection of the notorious 
Realist who sacrifices all the canons of art 
and beauty to the discussion of topics un- 
mentionable in decent society.” 

Gervase laughed idly. 

“ Oh, he will get in some day, you may 
be sure,” he answered. “ There is no spirit 
higher and stronger than the spirit of natural- 


ZISKA 


43 


ism in man ; and in time, when a few prej- 
udices have died away and mawkish senti- 
ment has been worn threadbare, Zola will 
be enrolled as the first of the French Aca- 
demicians, with even more honors than if he 
had succeeded in the beginning. That is 
the way of all those * select ’ bodies. As 
Napoleon said, ‘ Le monde vient a celui qui 
sait attendre .’ ” 

The little Doctor’s countenance now 
showed the most lively and eager interest. 

“You quite believe that, Monsieur Ger- 
vase? You are entirely sure of what you 
said just now?” 

“ What did I say ? I forget ! ” smiled 
Gervase, lighting a cigarette and beginning 
to smoke it leisurely. 

“You said, 4 There is no spirit higher or 
stronger than the spirit of naturalism in man.’ 
Are you positive on this point ? ” 

“ Why, of course ! Most entirely posi- 
tive ! ” And the great painter looked amused 
as he gave the reply. “ Naturalism is Nature, 
or the things appertaining to Nature, and 
there is nothing higher or stronger than 
Nature everywhere and anywhere.” 

“ How about God ? ” inquired Dr. Dean 
with a curious air, as if he were propound- 
ing a remarkable conundrum. 


44 


ZISKA 


“ God ! ” Gervase laughed loudly. “ Par- 
don ! Are you a clergyman ? ” 

“ By no means ! ” and the Doctor gave a 
little bow and deprecating smile. “ I am 
not in any way connected with the Church. 
I am a doctor of laws and literature, — a 
humble student of philosophy and science 
generally. . .” 

“ Philosophy ! Science !” interrupted 
Gervase. “ And you ask about God ! Par - 
bleu ! Science and philosophy have pro- 
gressed beyond Him ! 99 

“ Exactly ! ” and Dr. Dean rubbed his 
hands together pleasantly. “That is your 
opinion? Yes, I thought so ! Science and 
philosophy, to put it comprehensively, have 
beaten poor God on Plis own ground ! Ha ! 
ha! ha! Very good — very good! And 
humorous as well ! Ha! ha!” 

And a very droll appearance just then had 
this “ humble student of philosophy and 
science generally,” for he bent himself to 
and fro with laughter, and his small eyes 
almost disappeared behind his shelving brows 
in the excess of his mirth. And two cross- 
lines formed themselves near his thin mouth 
— such lines as are carven on the ancient 
Greek masks which indicate satire. 

Denzil Murray flushed uncomfortably. 


ZISKA 


45 


“ Gervase doesn't believe in anything but 
Art," he said, as though half apologizing for 
his friend: “ Art is the sole object of his ex- 
istence ; I don't believe he ever has time to 
think about anything else." 

“ Of what else should I think, mon ami? " 
exclaimed Gervase mirthfully. “ Of life ? 
It is all Art to me ; and by Art I mean the 
idealization and transfiguration of Nature." 

“ Oh, if you do that sort of thing you are 
a romancist," interposed Dr. Dean emphati- 
cally. “ Nature neither idealizes nor trans- 
figures itself ; it is simply Nature and no 
more. Matter uncontrolled by Spirit is any- 
thing but ideal." 

“ Precisely," answered Gervase quickly 
and with some warmth ; “ but my spirit 
idealizes it, — my imagination sees beyond 
it, — my soul grasps it." 

“ Oh, you have a soul ?" exclaimed Dr. 
Dean, beginning to laugh again. “ Now, 
how did you find that out ? " 

Gervase looked at him in a sudden 
surprise. 

“ Every man has an inward self, naturally," 
he said. “We call it ‘soul' as a figure of 
speech ; it is really temperament merely." 

“ Oh, it is merely temperament ? Then 
you don’t think it is likely to outlive you, 


46 


ZISKA 


this soul — to take new phases upon itself and 
go on existing, an immortal being, when your 
body is in a far worse condition (because 
less carefully preserved) than an Egyptian 
mummy ? ” 

“ Certainly not ! ” and Gervase flung away 
the end of his finished cigarette. “ The im- 
mortality of the soul is quite an exploded 
theory. It was always a ridiculous one. 
We have quite enough to vex us in our 
present life, and why men ever set about in- 
venting another is more than I am able to 
understand. It was a most foolish and bar- 
baric superstition/* 

The gay sound of music now floated to- 
wards them from the ball-room, — the strains 
of a graceful, joyous, half-commanding, half- 
pleading waltz came rhythmically beating 
on the air like the measured movement of 
wings, — and Denzil Murray, beginning to 
grow restless, walked to and fro, his eyes 
watching every figure that crossed and re- 
crossed the hall. But Dr. Dean’s interest in 
Armand Gervase remained intense and un- 
abated ; and approaching him, he laid two 
lean fingers delicately on the white folds of 
the Bedouin dress just where the heart of 
the man was hidden. 

“ 4 A foolish and barbaric superstition ! ’ ” 


ZISKA 


47 


he echoed slowly and meditatively. “ You 
do not believe in any possibility of there 
being a life — or several lives — after this 
present death through which we must all 
pass inevitably, sooner or later? ” 

“ Not in the least ! I leave such ideas to 
the ignorant and uneducated. I should be 
unworthy of the progressive teachings of my 
time if I believed such arrant nonsense.” 

“ Death, you consider, finishes all ? There 
is nothing further — no mysteries be- 
yond ? . . . ” and Dr. Dean’s eyes glittered 
as he stretched forth one thin, slight hand 
and pointed into space with the word “ be- 
yond,” an action which gave it a curious 
emphasis, and for a fleeting second left a 
weird impression on even the careless mind 
of Gervase. But he laughed it off lightly. 

“ Nothing beyond ? Of course not ! My 
dear sir, why ask such a question ? Nothing 
can be plainer or more positive than the fact 
that death, as you say, finishes all.” 

A woman’s laugh, low and exquisitely 
musical, rippled on the air as he spoke — deli- 
cious laughter, rarer than song ; for women 
as a rule laugh too loudly, and the sound of 
their merriment partakes more of the nature 
of a goose’s cackle than any other sort of 
natural melody. But this large, soft and 


48 


ZISKA 


silvery, was like a delicately subdued cadence 
played on a magic flute in the distance, and 
suggested nothing but sweetness ; and at the 
sound of it Gervase started violently and 
turned sharply round upon his friend Murray 
with a look of wonderment and perplexity. 

“ Who is that ? ” he demanded. “ I have 
heard that pretty laugh before ; it must be 
some one I know.” 

But Denzil scarcely heard him. Pale, and 
with eyes full of yearning and passion, he 
was watching the slow approach of a group 
of people in fancy dress, who were all eagerly 
pressing round one central figure — the figure 
of a woman clad in gleaming golden tissues 
and veiled in the old Egyptian fashion up 
to the eyes, with jewels flashing about her 
waist, bosom and hair, — a woman who moved 
glidingly as if she floated rather than walked, 
and whose beauty, half hidden as it was by 
the exigencies of the costume she had chosen, 
was so unusual and brilliant that it seemed 
to create an atmosphere of bewilderment 
and rapture around her as she came. She 
was preceded by a small Nubian boy in a 
costume of vivid scarlet, who, walking back- 
wards humbly, fanned her slowly with a tall 
fan of peacock’s plumes made after the quaint 
designs of ancient Egypt. The lustre radi- 


ZISKA 


49 


ating from the peacock’s feathers, the light of 
her golden garments, her jewels and the mar- 
vellous black splendor of her eyes, all flashed 
for a moment like sudden lightning on 
Gervase ; something — he knew not what — 
turned him giddy and blind ; hardly knowing 
what he did, he sprang eagerly forward, when 
all at once he felt the lean, small hand of 
Dr. Dean on his arm and stopped short 
embarrassed. 

“ Pardon me ! ” said the little savant, with 
a delicate, half-supercilious lifting of his eye- 
brows. “ But — do you know the Princess 
Ziska ? ” 

4 


50 


ZISKA 


CHAPTER II. 

Gervase stared at him, still dazzled and 
confused. 

“ Whom did you say ? . . . the Princess 
Ziska? . . . No, I don't know her . . . 
Yet, stay ! Yes, I think I have seen her . . . 
somewhere, — in Paris, possibly. Will you 
introduce me?” 

“ I leave that duty to Mr. Denzil Murray," 
said the Doctor, folding his arms neatly be- 
hind his back ... “ He knows her better 

than I do." 

And smiling his little grim, cynical smile, 
he settled his academic cap more firmly on 
his head and strolled off towards the ball- 
room. Gervase stood irresolute, his eyes 
fixed on that wondrous golden figure that 
floated before his eyes like an aerial vision. 
Denzil Murray had gone forward to meet the 
Princess and was now talking to her, his 
handsome face radiating with the admiration 
he made no attempt to conceal. After a 
little pause Gervase moved towards him 


ZISKA 5 1 

a step or two, and caught part of the con- 
versation. 

“You look the very beau-ideal of an 
Egyptian Princess,” Murray was saying. 
“ Your costume is perfect.” 

She laughed. Again that sweet, rare 
laughter! Gervase thrilled with the pulsa- 
tion of it, — it beat in his ears and smote his 
brain with a strange echo of familiarity. 

“ Is it not ? ” she responded. “ I am 
‘ historically correct/ as your friend Dr. 
Dean would say. My ornaments are genu- 
ine, — they all came out of the same tomb.” 

“ I find one fault with your attire, Prin- 
cess,” said one of the male admirers who 
had entered with her ; “ part of your face is 
veiled. That is a cruelty to us all ! ” 

She waived the compliment aside with a 
light gesture. 

“ It was the fashion in ancient Egypt,” 
she said. “ Love in those old days was not 
what it is now, — one glance, one smile was 
sufficient to set the soul on fire and draw 
another soul towards it to consume together 
in the suddenly kindled flame ! And women 
veiled their faces in youth, lest they should 
be deemed too prodigal of their charms ; and 
in age they covered themselves still more 
closely, in order not to affront the Sun-God’s 


52 


ZISKA 


fairness by their wrinkles.” She smiled, a 
dazzling smile that drew Gervase yet a few 
steps closer unconsciously, as though he 
were being magnetized. “But I am not 
bound to keep the veil always up,” and as she 
spoke she loosened it and let it fall, showing 
an exquisite face, fair as a lily, and of such 
perfect loveliness that the men who were 
gathered round her seemed to lose breath 
and speech at sight of it. “ That pleases you 
better, Mr. Murray?” 

Denzil grew very pale. Bending down 
he murmured something to her in a low tone. 
She raised her lovely brows with a little 
touch of surprise that was half disdain, and 
looked at him straightly. 

“You say very pretty things; but they 
do not always please me,” she observed. 
“ However, that is my fault, no doubt.” 

And she began to move onwards, her Nu- 
bian page preceding her as before. Gervase 
stood in her path and confronted her as she 
came. 

“ Introduce me,” he said in a command- 
ing tone to Denzil. 

Denzil looked at him, somewhat startled 
by the suppressed passion in his voice. 

“ Certainly. Princess, permit me ! ” She 
paused, a figure of silent grace and atten- 


ZISKA 


53 


tion. “ Allow me to present to you my 
friend, Armand Gervase, the most famous 
artist in France — Gervase, the Princess 
Ziska.” 

She raised her deep, dark eyes and fixed 
them on his face, and as he looked boldly 
at her in a kind of audacious admiration, he 
felt again that strange dizzying shock which 
had before thrilled him through and through. 
There was something strangely familiar 
about her ; the faint odors that seemed ex- 
haled from her garments, — the gleam of the 
jewel-winged scarabei on her breast, — the 
weird light of the emerald-studded serpent in 
her hair ; and more, much more familiar 
than these trifles, was the sound of her voice 
— dulcet, penetrating, grave and haunting 
in its tone. 

“At last we meet, Monsieur Armand 
Gervase ! ” she said slowly and with a grace- 
ful inclination of her head. “ But I cannot 
look upon you as a stranger, for I have 
known you so long — in spirit ! ” 

She smiled — a strange smile, dazzling yet 
enigmatical — and something wild and vo- 
luptuous seemed to stir in Gervase’s pulses 
as he touched the small hand, loaded with 
quaint Egyptian gems, which she graciously 
extended towards him. 


54 


ZISKA 


“ I think I have known you, too ! ” he 
said. “ Possibly in a dream, — a dream of 
beauty never realized till now ! ” 

His voice sank to an amorous whisper; 
but she said nothing in reply, nor could her 
looks be construed into any expression of 
either pleasure or offence. Yet through the 
heart of young Denzil Murray went a sud- 
den pang of jealousy, and for the first time 
in his life he became conscious that even 
among men as well as women there may 
exist what is called the “ petty envy ” of a 
possible rival, and the uneasy desire to out- 
shine such an one in all points of appearance, 
dress and manner. His gaze rested brood- 
ingly on the tall, muscular form of Gervase, 
and he noted the symmetry and supple grace 
of the man with an irritation of which he 
was ashamed. He knew, despite his own 
undeniably handsome personality, which was 
set off to such advantage that night by the 
richness of the Florentine costume he had 
adopted, that there was a certain fascination 
about Gervase which was inborn, a trick of 
manner which made him seem picturesque 
at all times ; and that even when the great 
French artist had stayed with him in Scot- 
land and got himself up for the occasion in 
more or less baggy tweeds, people were fond 


ZISKA 


55 


of remarking that the only man who ever 
succeeded in making tweeds look artistic was 
Armand Gervase. And in the white Bedouin 
garb he now wore he was seen at his best ; a 
certain restless passion betrayed in eyes and 
lips made him look the savage part he had 
“ dressed ” for, and as he bent his head over 
the Princess Ziska’s hand and kissed it with 
an odd mingling of flippancy and reverence, 
Denzil suddenly began to think how curi- 
ously alike they were, these two ! Strong 
man and fair woman, both had many physi- 
cal points in common, — the same dark, level 
brows, — the same half wild, half tender eyes, 
— the same sinuous grace of form, — the same 
peculiar lightness of movement, — and yet 
both were different, while resembling each 
other. It was not what is called a “ family 
likeness*' which existed between them; it 
was the cast of countenance or “ type ” that 
exists between races or tribes, and had 
young Murray not known his friend Gervase 
to be a French Provencal and equally under- 
stood the Princess Ziska to be of Russian 
origin, he would have declared them both 
natives of Egypt, of the purest caste and 
highest breeding. He was so struck by this 
idea that he might have spoken his thought 
aloud had he not heard Gervase boldly ar- 


5<5 


ZISICA 


ranging dance after dance with the Princess, 
and apparently preparing to write no name 
but hers down the entire length of his ball 
programme, — a piece of audacity which had 
the effect of rousing Denzil to assert his own 
rights. 

“You promised me the first waltz, Prin- 
he said, his face flushing as he 

“ Quite true ! And you shall have it,” 
she replied, smiling. “ Monsieur Gervase 
will have the second. The music sounds 
very inviting ; shall we not go in ? ” 

“ We spoil the effect of your entree crowd- 
ing about you like this,” said Denzil, glanc- 
ing somewhat sullenly at Gervase and the 
other men surrounding her; “and, by the 
way, you have never told us what character 
you represent to-night ; some great queen 
of old time, no doubt ? ” 

“ No, I lay no claim to sovereignty,” she 
answered ; “ I am for to-night the living 
picture of a once famous and very improper 
person who bore half my name, a dancer of 
old time, known as ‘ Ziska-Charmazel,’ the 
favorite of the harem of a great Egyptian 
warrior, described in forgotten histories as 
‘ The Mighty Araxes/ ” 

She paused ; her admirers, fascinated by 


cess,” 

spoke. 


ZISKA 


57 


the sound of her voice, were all silent. She 
fixed her eyes upon Gervase ; and addressing 
him only, continued : 

“ Yes, I am * Charmazel,’ ” she said. “ She 
was, as I tell you, an ‘ improper ’ person, or 
would be so considered by the good English 
people. Because, you know, she was never 
married to Araxes ! ” 

This explanation, given with the demurest 
naivety caused a laugh among her listeners. 

“ That wouldn’t make her ‘ improper * in 
France,” said Gervase gayly. “ She would 
only seem more interesting.” 

“Ah! Then modern France is like old 
Egypt ? ” she queried, still smiling. “ And 
Frenchmen can be found perhaps who are 
like Araxes in the number of their loves and 
infidelities ? ” 

“ I should say my country is populated 
entirely with copies of him,” replied Gervase, 
mirthfully. “ Was he a very distinguished 
personage ? ” 

“ He was. Old legends say he was the 
greatest warrior of his time ; as you, Mon- 
sieur Gervase, are the greatest artist.” 

Gervase bowed. 

“ You flatter me, fair Charmazel ! ” he said ; 
then suddenly as the strange name passed 
his lips he recoiled as if he had been stung, 


58 


ZISKA 


and seemed for a moment dazed. The 
Princess turned her dark eyes on him in- 
quiringly. 

“ Something troubles you, Monsieur Ger- 
vase ? ” she asked. 

His brows knitted in a perplexed frown. 

“ Nothing . . . the heat, . . . the air 
... a trifle, I assure you ? Will you not 
join the dancers? Denzil, the music calls 
you. When your waltz with the Princess 
is ended I shall claim my turn. For the 
moment . . . au revoir! ” 

He stood aside and let the little group 
pass him by : the Princess Ziska moving 
with her floating, noiseless grace, Denzil 
Murray beside her, the little Nubian boy wav- 
ing the peacock-plumes in front of them both, 
and all the other enslaved admirers of this 
singularly attractive woman crowding to- 
gether behind. He watched the little cortege 
with strained, dim sight, till just at the divid- 
ing portal between the lounge and the ball- 
room the Princess turned and looked back 
at him with a smile. Over all the interven- 
ing heads their eyes met in one flash of 
mutual comprehension ! then, as the fair face 
vanished like a light absorbed into the lights 
beyond it, Gervase, left alone, dropped 
heavily into a chair and stared vaguely at 


ZISKA 


59 


the elaborate pattern of the thick carpet at 
his feet. Passing his hand across his fore- 
head he withdrew it, wet with drops of per- 
spiration. 

“ What is wrong with me ? ” he muttered. 
“ Am I sickening for a fever before I 
have been forty-eight hours in Cairo ? 
,What fool's notion is this in my brain ? 
Where have I seen her before ? In Paris? 
St. Petersburg? London? Charmazel! . . . 
Charmazel ! . . . What has the name to 
do with me? Ziska-Charmazel ! It is like 
the name of a romance or a gypsy tune. 
Bah ! I must be dreaming ! Her face, her 
eyes, are perfectly familiar ; where, where 
have I seen herand played the mad fool with 
her before ? Was she a model at one of the 
studios? Have I seen her by chance thus 
in her days of poverty, and does her image 
recall itself vividly now despite her changed 
surroundings ? I know the very perfume of 
her hair ... it seems to creep into my 
blood ... it intoxicates me ... it chokes 
me ! . . .” 

He sprang up with a fierce gesture, then 
after a minute's pause sat down again, and 
again stared at the floor. 

The gay music from the ball-room danced 
towards him on the air in sweet, broken 


6o 


ZISKA 


echoes, — he heard nothing and saw noth- 
ing. 

“ My God ! ” he said at last, under his 
breath. u Can it be possible that I love this 
woman ? ” 


ZISKA 


61 


CHAPTER III. 

WITHIN the ball-room the tide of gayety 
was rising to its height. It may be a very 
trivial matter, yet it is certain that fancy 
dress gives a peculiar charm, freedom, and 
brightness to festivities of the kind ; and 
men who in the ordinary mournful black 
evening-suit would be taciturn of speech and 
conventional in bearing, throw off their cus- 
tomary reserve when they find themselves in 
the brilliant and becoming attire of some 
picturesque period when dress was an art as 
well as a fashion ; and not only do they look 
their best, but they somehow manage to put 
on “ manner ” with costume, and to become 
courteous, witty, and graceful to a degree 
that sometimes causes their own relatives to 
wonder at them and speculate as to why they 
have grown so suddenly interesting. Few 
have read Sartor Resartus with either com- 
prehension or profit, and are therefore 
unaware, as Teufelsdrockh was, that “ Society 
is founded upon Cloth ” — ue. that man does 


62 


ZISKA 


adapt his manners very much to suit his 
clothes ; and that as the costume of the days 
of Louis Quinze or Louis Seize inspired 
graceful deportment and studied courtesy to 
women, so does the costume of our nine- 
teenth century inspire brusque demeanor 
and curt forms of speech, which, however 
sincere, are not flattering to the fair sex. 

More love-making goes on at a fancy-dress 
ball than at an ordinary one ; and numerous 
were the couples that strolled through the 
corridors and along the terraces of the Gezireh 
Palace Hotel when, after the first dozen 
dances were ended, it was discovered that 
one of the most glorious of full moons had 
risen over the turrets and minarets of Cairo, 
illumining every visible object with as clear 
a lustre as that of day. Then it was that 
warriors and nobles of mediaeval days were 
seen strolling with mythological goddesses 
and out-of-date peasants of Italy and Spain ; 
then audacious “ toreadors ” were perceived 
whispering in the ears of crowned queens, 
and clowns were caught lingering amorously 
by the side of impossible flower-girls of all 
nations. Then it was that Sir Chetwynd 
Lyle, with his paunch discreetly restrained 
within the limits of a Windsor uniform 
which had been made for him some two or 


ZISKA 


63 


three years since, paced up and down com- 
placently in the moonlight, watching his 
two “ girls,” Muriel and Dolly, doing busi- 
ness with certain “ eligibles ” ; then it was 
that Lady Fulkeward, fearfully and won- 
derfully got up as the “ Duchess of Gains- 
borough ” sidled to and fro, flirted with this 
man, flouted that, giggled, shrugged her 
shoulders, waved her fan, and comported 
herself altogether as if she were a hoy- 
den of seventeen just let loose from school 
for the holidays. And then the worthy 
Dr. Maxwell Dean, somewhat exhausted 
by vigorous capering in the “ Lancers,” 
strolled forth to inhale the air, fanning 
himself with his cap as he walked, and 
listening keenly to every chance word or 
sentence he could hear, whether it con- 
cerned himself or not. He had peculiar 
theories, and one of them was, as he would 
tell you, that if you overheard a remark 
apparently not intended for you, you were to 
make yourself quite easy, as it was “ a point 
of predestination ” that you should at that 
particular moment, consciously or uncon- 
sciously, play the eavesdropper. The rea- 
son of it would, he always averred, be ex- 
plained to you later on in your career. The 
well-known saying “ listeners never hear any 


6 4 


ZISKA 


good of themselves ” was, he declared, a 
most ridiculous aphorism. “ You overhear 
persons talking and you listen. Very well. 
It may chance that you hear yourself abused. 
What then? Nothing can be so good for 
you as such abuse ; the instruction given is 
twofold; it warns you against foes whom 
you have perhaps considered friends, and it 
tones down any overweening conceit you 
may have had concerning your own impor- 
tance or ability. Listen to everything if 
you are wise — I always do. I am an old and 
practised listener. And I have never lis- 
tened in vain. All the information I have 
gained through listening, though apparently 
at first disconnected and unclassified, has 
fitted into my work like the stray pieces of 
a puzzle, and has proved eminently useful. 
Wherever I am I always keep my ears well 
open.” 

With such views as he thus entertained, 
life was always enormously interesting to 
Dr. Dean — he found nothing tiresome, not 
even the conversation of the type known as 
Noodle. The Noodle was as curious a 
specimen of nature to him as the emu or 
the crocodile. And as he turned up his in- 
tellectual little physiognomy to the deep, 
warm Egyptian sky and inhaled the air 


ZISKA 


65 


sniffingly, as though it were a monster scent- 
bottle just uncorked for his special gratifi- 
cation, he smiled as he observed Muriel 
Chetwynd Lyle standing entirely alone at the 
end of the terrace, attired as a “ Boulogne 
fish-wife/’ and looking daggers after the has- 
tily-retreating figure of a “ White Hussar,” 
—no other than Ross Courtney. 

“ How extremely droll a ‘ Boulogne fish- 
wife ’ looks in Egypt,” commented the Doc- 
tor to his inward self. Re-markable ! The 
incongruity is peculiarly typical of the Chet- 
wynd Lyles. The costume of the young 
woman is like the knighthood of her father, 
— droll, droll, very droll ! ” Aloud he said 
• — “ Why are you not dancing, Miss 
Muriel?” 

“ Oh, I don’t know — I’m tired,” she said, 
petulantly. “ Besides, all the men are after 
that Ziska woman, — they seem to have lost 
their heads about her ! ” 

“ Ah ! ” and Dr. Dean rubbed his hands. 
“ Yes — possibly ! Well, she is certainly very 
beautiful.” 

“ I cannot see it ! ” and Muriel Chetwynd 
Lyle flushed with the inward rage which 
could not be spoken. “ It’s the way she 
dresses more than her looks. N obody knows 
who she is — but they do not seem to care 
5 


66 


ZISKA 


about that. They are all raving like lunatics 
over her, and that man — that artist who ar- 
rived here to-day, Armand Gervase, — seems 
the maddest of the lot. Haven’t you no- 
ticed how often he has danced with her? ” 

“ I couldn’t help noticing that,” said the 
Doctor, emphatically, “ for I have never seen 
anything more exquisite than the way they 
waltz together. Physically, they seem made 
for one another.” 

Muriel laughed disdainfully. 

“ You had better tell Mr. Denzil Murray 
that ; he is in a bad enough humor now, 
and that remark of yours wouldn’t improve 
it, I can tell you ! ” 

She broke off abruptly, as a slim, fair girl, 
dressed as a Greek vestal in white, with a 
chaplet of silver myrtle-leaves round her 
hair, suddenly approached and touched Dr. 
Dean on the arm. 

“ Can I speak to you a moment ? ” she 
asked. 

“ My dear Miss Murray! Of course!” 
and the Doctor turned to her at once. 

What is it ? ” 

She paced with him a few steps in silence, 
while Muriel Chetwynd Lyle moved lan- 
guidly away from the terrace and re-entered 
the ball-room. 


ZISKA 


6 / 


“ What is it ? " repeated Dr. Dean. “ You 
seem distressed ; come, tell me all about it ! ” 
Helen Murray lifted her eyes — the soft, 
violet-gray eyes that Lord Fulkeward had 
said he admired — suffused with tears, and 
fixed them on the old man's face. 

“ I wish," she said — “ I wish we had never 
come to Egypt ! I feel as if some great 
misfortune were going to happen to us ; 
I do, indeed ! Oh, Dr. Dean, have you 
watched my brother this evening? ” 

“ I have," he replied, and then was silent. 
“ And what do you think ? " she asked 
anxiously. “ How can you account for his 
strangeness — his roughness — even to me ? " 
And the tears brimmed over and fell, de- 
spite her efforts to restrain them. Dr. Dean 
stopped in his walk and took her two hands 
in his own. 

“ My dear Helen, it's no use worrying 
yourself like this," he said. “ Nothing can 
stop the progress of the Inevitable. I have 
watched Denzil, I have watched the new 
arrival, Armand Gervase, I have watched the 
mysterious Ziska, and I have watched you ! 
Well, what is the result ? The Inevitable, — 
simply the unconquerable Inevitable. Den- 
zil is in love, Gervase is in love, everybody 
is in love, except me and one other ! It is a 


68 


ZISKA 


whole network of mischief, and I am the un- 
happy fly that has unconsciously fallen into 
the very middle of it. But the spider, my 
dear, — the spider who wove the web in the 
first instance, — is the Princess Ziska, and she 
is not in love ! She is the other one. She is 
not in love with anybody any more than I 
am. She's got something else on her mind 
— I don’t know what it is exactly, but it 
isn’t love. Excluding her and myself, the 
whole hotel is in love — you are in love ! ” 

Helen withdrew her hands from his grasp 
and a deep flush reddened her fair face. 

“ I ! ” she stammered — “ Dr. Dean, you 
are mistaken. . . .” 

“ Dr. Dean was never mistaken on love- 
matters in his life,” said that self-satisfied 
sage complacently. “ Now, my dear, don’t 
be offended. I have known both you and 
your brother ever since you were left little 
orphan children together ; if I cannot speak 
plainly to you, who can? You are in love, 
little Helen — and very unwisely, too — with 
the man Gervase. I have heard of him 
often, but I never saw him before to-night. 
And I don’t approve of him.” 

Helen grew as pale as she had been rosy, 
and her face as the moonlight fell upon it 
was very sorrowful. 


ZISKA 


69 


“ He stayed with us in Scotland two sum- 
mers ago, ” she said softly. “ He was very 
agreeable. . . . ” 

“ Ha! No doubt! He made a sort of 
love to you then, I suppose. I can imagine 
him doing it very well ! There is a nice ro- 
mantic glen near your house — just where the 
river runs, and where I caught a fifteen- 
pound salmon some five years ago. Ha! 
Catching salmon is healthy work ; much 
better than falling in love. No, no, Helen ! 
Gervase is not good enough for you ; you 
want a far better man. Has he spoken to 
you to-night ? ” 

“ Oh, yes ! And he has danced with me.” 

“ Ha ! How often ? ” 

“ Once.” 

“ And how many times with the Princess 
Ziska?” 

Helen’s fair head drooped, and she 
answered nothing. All at once the little 
Doctor’s hand closed on her arm with a soft 
yet firm grip. 

“ Look ! ” he whispered. 

She raised her eyes and saw two figures 
step out on the terrace and stand in the full 
moonlight, — the white Bedouin dress of the 
one and the glittering golden robe of the other 
made them easily recognizable, — they were 


70 


ZISKA 


Gervase and the Princess Ziska. Helen gave 
a faint, quick sigh. 

“ Let us go in,” she said. 

“ Nonsense ! Why should we go in ? On 
the contrary, let us join them.” 

“Oh, no!” and Helen shrank visibly at 
the very idea. “ I cannot ; do not ask me ! 
I have tried — you know I have tried — to like 
the Princess ; but something in her — I don't 
know what it is — repels me. To speak truth- 
fully, I think I am afraid of her.” 

“ Afraid ! Pooh ! Why should you be 
afraid? It is true one doesn't often see a 
woman with the eyes of a vampire-bat; but 
there is nothing to be frightened about. I 
have dissected the eyes of a vampire-bat — 
very interesting work, very. The Princess 
has them — only, of course, hers are larger 
and finer; but there is exactly the same 
expression in them. I am fond of study, 
you know ; I am studying her. What ! Are 
you determined to run away?” 

“ I am engaged for this dance to Mr. 
Courtney,” said Helen, nervously. 

“ Well, well ! We'll resume our conver- 
sation another time,” and Dr. Dean took her 
hand and patted it pleasantly. “ Don't fret 
yourself about Denzil ; he’ll be all right. 
And take my advice : don't marry a Bedouin 


ZISKA. 


7 1 


chief ; marry an honest, straightforward, 
tender-hearted Englishman who’ll take care 
of you, not a nondescript savage who’ll desert 
you ! ” 

^ And with a humorous and kindly smile, 
Dr. Dean moved off to join the two motion- 
less and picturesque figures that stood side 
by side looking at the moon, while Helen, 
like a frightened bird suddenly released, fled 
precipitately back to the ball-room, where 
Ross Courtney was already searching for her 
as his partner in the next waltz. 

“ Upon my word,” mused the Doctor, 
“ this is a very pretty kettle of fish ! The 
Gezireh Palace Hotel is not a hotel at all, 
it seems to me; it is a lunatic asylum. What 
with Lady Fulkeward getting herself up as 
twenty at the age of sixty ; and Muriel and 
Dolly Chetwynd Lyle man-hunting with 
more ferocity than sportsmen hunt tigers ; 
Helen in love, Denzil in love, Gervase in 
love — dear me ! dear me ! What a list of 
subjects for a student’s consideration ! And 
the Princess Ziska. . . .” 

He broke off his meditations abruptly, 
vaguely impressed by the strange solemnity 
of the night. An equal solemnity seemed to 
surround the two figures to which he now 
drew nigh, and as the Princess Ziska turned 


72 


ZISKA 


her eyes upon him as he came, he was, to 
his own vexation, aware that something 
indefinable disturbed his usual equanimity 
and gave him an unpleasant thrill. 

“You are enjoying a moonlight stroll, 
Doctor ?” she inquired. 

Her veil was now cast aside in a careless 
fold of soft drapery over her shoulders, and 
her face in its ethereal delicacy of feature and 
brilliant coloring looked almost too beauti- 
ful to be human. Dr. Dean did not reply 
for a moment ; he was thinking what a singu- 
lar resemblance there was between Armand 
Gervase and one of the figures on a certain 
Egyptian fresco in the British Museum. 

“Enjoying — er — er — a what? — a moon- 
light stroll ? Exactly — er — yes ! Pardon 
me, Princess, my mind often wanders, and I 
am afraid I am getting a little deaf as well. 
Yes, I find the night singularly conducive to 
meditation ; one cannot be in a land like this 
under a sky like this ” — and he pointed to 
the shining heaven— “without recalling the 
great histories of the past.” 

“ I daresay they were very much like the 
histories of the present,” said Gervase smil- 
ing. 

“ I should doubt that. History is what 
man makes it ; and the character of man in 


ZISKA 


73 


the early days of civilization was, I think, 
more forceful, more earnest, more strong of 
purpose, more bent on great achievements. ,, 

“ The principal achievement and glory 
being to kill as many of one's fellow-creatures 
as possible ! ” laughed Gervase — “ Like the 
famous warrior, Araxes, of whom the Prin- 
cess has just been telling me ! ” 

“ Araxes was great, but now Araxes is 
a forgotten hero," said the Princess slowly, 
each accent of her dulcet voice chiming on 
the ear like the stroke of a small silver bell. 
“ None of the modern discoverers know any- 
thing about him yet. They have not even 
found his tomb ; but he was buried in the 
Pyramids with all the honors of a king. No 
doubt your clever men will excavate him 
some day." 

“ I think the Pyramids have been very 
thoroughly explored," said Dr. Dean. 
“ Nothing of any importance remains in 
them now." 

The Princess arched her lovely eyebrows. 

“No? Ah! I daresay you know them 
better than I do ! " and she laughed, a laugh 
which was not mirthful so much as scornful. 

“ I am very much interested in Araxes," 
said Gervase then, “ partly, I suppose, be- 
cause he is as yet in the happy condition of 


74 


ZISKA 


being an interred mummy. N obody has dug 
him up, unwound his cerements, or photo- 
graphed him, and his ornaments have not 
been stolen. And in the second place I am 
interested in him because it appears he was 
in love with the famous dancer of his day 
whom the Princess represents to-night, — 
Charmazel. I wish I had heard the story 
before I came to Cairo ; I would have got 
myself up as Araxes in person to-night.” 

“ In order to play the lover of Charmazel ? ” 
queried the Doctor. 

“ Exactly ! ” replied Gervase with flashing 
eyes ; “ I daresay I could have acted the 
part.” 

“ I should imagine you could act any part,” 
replied the Doctor, blandly. “ The role of 
love-making comes easily to most men.” 

The Princess looked at him as he spoke and 
smiled. The jewelled scarab, set as a brooch 
on her bosom, flashed luridly in the moon, 
and in her black eyes there was a similar 
lurid gleam. 

“ Come and talk to me,” she said, laying 
her hand on his arm ; “ I am tired, and the 
conversation of one’s ball-room partners is 
very banal . Monsieur Gervase would like 
me to dance all night, I imagine ; but I am 
too lazy. I leave such energy to Lady 


ZISKA 


75 


Fulkeward and to all the English misses and 
madams. I love indolence.” 

“ Most Russian women do, I think/’ ob- 
served the Doctor. 

She laughed. 

“ But I am not Russian ! ” 

“ I know. I never thought you were,” he 
returned composedly ; “ but everyone in the 
hotel has come to the conclusion that you 
are!” 

“ They are all wrong ! What can I do to 
put them right ? ” she inquired with a fas- 
cinating little upward movement of her 
eyebrows. 

“ Nothing ! Leave them in their ignorance. 
I shall not enlighten them, though I know 
your nationality.” 

“You do?” and a curious shadow dark- 
ened her features. “ But perhaps you are 
wrong also ! ” 

“ I think not,” said the Doctor, with gentle 
obstinacy. “You are an Egyptian. Born 
in Egypt ; born of Egypt. Pure Eastern ! 
There is nothing Western about you. Is 
not it so ? ” 

She looked at him enigmatically. 

“ You have made a near guess, ’’ she 
replied ; “ but you are not absolutely correct. 
Originally, I am of Egypt.” 


;6 


ZISKA 


Dr. Dean nodded pleasantly. 

“ Originally, — yes. That is precisely what 
I mean — originally ! Let me take you in to 
supper.” 

He offered his arm, but Gervase made a 
hasty step forward. 

“ Princess,” he began — 

She waved him off lightly. 

“ My dear Monsieur Gervase, we are not 
in the desert, where Bedouin chiefs do just 
as they like. We are in a modern hotel in 
Cairo, and all the good English mammas will 
be dreadfully shocked if I am seen too much 
with you. I have danced with you five 
times, remember! And I will dance with 
you once more before I leave. When our 
waltz begins, come and find me in the upper- 
room.” 

She moved away on Dr. Dean’s arm, and 
Gervase moodily drew back and let her pass. 
When she had gone, he lit a cigarette and 
walked impatiently up and down the ter- 
race, a heavy frown wrinkling his brows. 
The shadow of a man suddenly darkened 
the moonlight in front of him, and Denzil 
Murray’s hand fell on his shoulder. 

“ Gervase,” he said, huskily, “ I must 
speak to you.” 

Gervase glanced him up and down, taking 


ZISKA 


77 


note of his pale face and wild eyes with a 
certain good-humored regret and compassion. 

“ Say on, my friend/ 1 

Denzil looked straight at him, biting his 
lips hard and clenching his hands in the 
effort to keep down some evidently violent 
emotion. 

“ The Princess Ziska," he began, — 

Gervase smiled, and flicked the ash off his 
cigarette. 

“ The Princess Ziska/' he echoed, — “ Yes? 
What of her? She seems to be the only 
person talked about in Cairo. Everybody 
in this hotel, at any rate, begins conversa- 
tion with precisely the same words as you 
do, — ( the Princess Ziska!' Upon my life, 
it is very amusing ! ” 

“ It is not amusing to me,” said Denzil, 
bitterly. “To me it is a matter of life and 
death." He paused, and Gervase looked at 
him curiously. “ We’ve always been such 
good friends, Gervase," he continued, “ that 
I should be sorry if anything came between 
us now, so I think it is better to make a 
clean breast of it and speak out plainly." 
Again he hesitated, his face growing still 
paler, then with a sudden ardent light glow- 
ing in his eyes he said — “ Gervase, I love 
the Princess Ziska! " 


ZISKA 


78 


Gervase threw away his cigarette and 
laughed aloud with a wild hilarity. 

“ My good boy, I am very sorry for you ! 
Sorry, too, for myself ! I deplore the posi- 
tion in which we are placed with all my 
heart and soul. It is unfortunate, but it 
seems inevitable. You love the Princess 
Ziska, — and by all the gods of Egypt and 
Christendom, so do I ! ” 


ZISKA 


79 


CHAPTER IV. 

Denzil recoiled a step backward, then 
with an impulsive movement strode close up 
to him, his face unnaturally flushed and his 
eyes glittering with an evil fire. 

“You — you love her! What! — in one 
short hour, you — who have often boasted to 
me of having no heart, no eyes for women 
except as models for your canvas, — you say 
now that you love a woman whom you have 
never seen before to-night ! ” 

“ Stop ! ” returned Gervase somewhat 
moodily, “ I am not so sure about that. I 
have seen her before, though where I can- 
not tell. But the fire that stirs my pulses 
now seems to spring from some old passion 
suddenly revived, and the eyes of the woman 
we are both mad for — well ! they do not 
inspire holiness, my dear friend! No, — 
neither in you nor in me! Let us be hon- 
est with each other. There is something 
vile in the composition of Madame la Prin- 
cesse, and it responds to something equally 


8o 


ZISKA 


vile in ourselves. We shall be dragged 
down by the force of it, — tant pis pour nous ! 
I am sorrier for you than for myself, for you 
are a good fellow, au fond ; you have what 
the world is learning to despise — sentiment. 
I have none ; for as I told you before, I 
have no heart, but I have passions — tigerish 
ones — which must be humored; in fact, I 
make it my business in life to humor them.” 

a Do you intend to humor them in this 
instance ? ” 

“ Assuredly ! If I can.” 

“ Then, — friend as you have been, you can 
be friend no more,” said Denzil fiercely. 
“ My God ! Do you not understand ? My 
blood is as warm as yours, — I will not yield 
to you one smile, one look from Ziska ! No ! 
— I will kill you first ! ” 

Gervase looked at him calmly. 

“ Will you? Pauvre garcon ! You are 
such a boy still, Denzil, — by-the-bye, how 
old are you ? Ah, I remember now, — twenty- 
two. Only twenty-two, and I am thirty- 
eight ! So in the measure of time alone, 
your life is more valuable to you than mine 
is to me. If you choose, therefore, you can 
kill me, — now, if you like ! I have a very 
convenient dagger in my belt — I think it has 
a point — which you are welcome to use for 


ZISKA 


81 


the purpose ; but, for heaven's sake, don't 
rant about it — do it ! You can kill me — of 
course you can ; but you cannot — mark this 
well, Denzil ! — you cannot preve-nt my loving 
the same woman whom you love. I think 
instead of raving about the matter here in 
the moonlight, which has the effect of making 
us look like two orthodox villains in a set 
stage-scene, we'd better make the best of it, 
and resolve to abide by the lady's choice in 
the matter. What say you? You have 
known her for many days, — I have known 
her for two hours. You have had the first 
innings, so you cannot complain." 

Here he playfully unfastened the Bedouin 
knife which hung at his belt and offered it to 
Denzil, holding it delicately by the glittering 
blade. 

“ One thrust, my brave boy ! " he said. 
“And you will stop the Ziska fever in my 
veins at once and forever. But, unless you 
deal the murderer's blow, the fever will go on 
increasing till it reaches its extremest height, 
and then . . ." 

“ And then ? " echoed Denzil. 

“ Then ? Oh — God only knows what 
then ! " 

Denzil thrust away the offered weapon 
with a movement of aversion. 

6 


82 


ZISKA 


“You can jest,” he said. “You are 
always jesting. But you do not know — you 
cannot read the horrible thoughts in my 
mind. I cannot resolve their meaning even 
to myself. There is some truth in your light 
words ; I feel, I know instinctively, that the 
woman I love has an attraction about her 
which is not good, but evil ; yet what does 
that matter ? Do not men sometimes love 
vile women ? ” 

“ Always ! ” replied Gervase briefly. 

“ Gervase, I have suffered tortures ever 
since I saw her face ! ” exclaimed the un- 
happy lad, his self-control suddenly giving 
way. “You cannot imagine what my life 
has been ! Her eyes make me mad, — the 
merest touch of her hand seems to drag me 
away invisibly. . . .” 

“To perdition ! ” finished Gervase. “ That 
is the usual end of the journey we men take 
with beautiful women.” 

“And now,” went on Denzil, hardly heed- 
ing him, “ as if my own despair were not suf- 
ficient, you must needs add to it ! What evil 
fate, I wonder, sent you to Cairo ! Of course, 
I have no chance with her now ; you are sure 
to win the day. And can you wonder then 
that I feel as if I could kill you?” 

“ Oh, I wonder at nothing,” said Gervase 


ZISKA 


83 


calmly, “ except, perhaps, at myself. And I 
echo your words most feelingly, — What evil 
fate sent me to Cairo ? I cannot tell ! But 
here I purpose to remain. My dear Murray, 
don’t let us quarrel if we can help it ; it is 
such a waste of time. I am not angry with 
you for loving la belle Ziska, — try, therefore, 
not to be angry with me. Let the fair one 
herself decide as to our merits. My own 
opinion is that she cares for neither of us, 
and, moreover, that she never will care for 
any one except her fascinating self. And 
certainly her charms are quite enough to 
engross her whole attention. By the way, 
let me ask you, Denzil, in this headstrong 
passion of yours, — for it is a headstrong 
passion, just as mine is, — do you actually in- 
tend to make the Ziska your wife if she will 
have you ? ” 

“ Of course,” replied Murray, with some 
haughtiness. 

A fleeting expression of amusement flitted 
over Gervase’s features. 

“It is very honorable of you,” he said, 
“ very ! My dear boy, you shall have your 
full chance. Because I — I would not make 
the Princess Madame Gervase for all the 
world ! She is not formed for a life of do- 
mesticity — and pardon me — I cannot pic- 


8 4 


ZISKA 


ture her as the contented chatelaine of your 
grand old Scotch castle in Ross-shire.” 

“ Why not ? ” 

“ From an artistic point of view the idea is 
incongruous/’ said Gervase lazily. “ Never- 
theless, I will not interfere with your woo- 
ing.” 

Denzil’s face brightened. 

“You will not? ” 

“ I will not — I promise ! But ” — and here 
Gervase paused, looking his young friend 
full in the eyes, “ remember, if your chance 
falls to the ground — if Madame gives you 
your congt — if she does not consent to be a 
Scottish chatelaine and listen every day to 
the bagpipes at dinner, — you cannot expect 
me then to be indifferent to my own desires. 
She shall not be Madame Gervase, — oh, no ! 
She shall not be asked to attend to the pot- 
au-feu ; she shall act the role for which she 
has dressed to-night; she shall be another 
Charmazel to another Araxes, though the 
wild days of Egypt are no more! ” 

A sudden shiver ran through him as he 
spoke, and instinctively he drew the white 
folds of his picturesque garb closer about 
him. 

“ There is a chill wind sweeping in from 
the desert,” he said, “ an evil, sandy breath 


ZISKA 


85 


tasting of mummy-dust blown through the 
crevices of the tombs of kings. Let us go 
in.” 

Murray looked at him in a kind of dull 
despair. 

“ And what is to be done ? 99 he asked. 
“ I cannot answer for myself — and — from 
what you say, neither can you.” 

“ My dear friend — or foe — whichever you 
determine to be, I can answer for myself in 
one particular at any rate, namely, that as 
I told you, I shall not ask the Princess to 
marry me. You, on the contrary, will do so. 
Bonne chance ! I shall do nothing to pre- 
vent Madame from accepting the honor- 
able position you intend to offer her. And 
till the fiat has gone forth and the fair one 
has decided, we will not fly at each other's 
throats like wolves disputing possession of a 
lamb ; we will assume composure, even if we 
have it not.” He paused, and laid one hand 
kindly on the younger man's shoulder, “ Is 
it agreed ? ” 

Denzil gave a mute sign of resigned ac- 
quiescence. 

“ Good ! I like you, Denzil ; you are a 
charming boy ! Hot-tempered and a trifle 
melodramatic in your loves and hatreds, — 
yes ! — for that you might have been a Proven- 


86 


ZISKA 


$al instead of a Scot. Before I knew you I 
had a vague idea that all Scotchmen were, or 
needs must be, ridiculous, — I don’t know 
why. I associated them with bagpipes, short 
petticoats and whisky. I had no idea of 
the type you so well represent, — the dark, 
fine eyes, the strong physique, and the im- 
petuous disposition which suggests the South 
rather than the North ; and to-night you look 
so unlike the accepted cafe chantant picture of 
the ever-dancing Highlander that you might 
in very truth be a Florentine in more points 
than the dress which so well becomes you. 
Yes, — I like you — and more than you, I 
like your sister. That is why I don’t want 
to quarrel with you ; I wouldn’t grieve Ma- 
demoiselle Helen for the world.” 

Murray gave him a quick, half-angry side- 
glance. 

“ You are a strange fellow, Gervase. Two 
summers ago you were almost in love with 
Helen.” 

Gervase sighed. 

“ True. Almost. That’s just it. 1 Al- 
most ’ is a very uncomfortable word. I 
have been almost in love so many times. I 
have never been drawn by a woman’s eyes 
and dragged down, down, — in a mad whirl- 
pool of sweetness and poison intermixed. 


ZISKA 


87 


I have never had my soul strangled by the 
coils of a woman’s hair — black hair, black as 
night, — in the perfumed meshes of which a 
jewelled serpent gleams ... I have never 
felt the insidious horror of a love like strong 
drink mounting through the blood to the 
brain, and there making inextricable con- 
fusion of time, space, eternity, everything, 
except the passion itself ; never, never have 
I felt all this, Denzil, till to-night ! To- 
night ! Bah ! It is a wild night of dancing 
and folly, and the Princess Ziska is to blame 
for it all ! Don’t look so tragic, my good 
Denzil, — what ails you now ? ” 

“What ails me? Good Heavens! Can 
you ask it ! ” and Murray gave a gesture of 
mingled despair and impatience. “ If you 
love her in this wild, uncontrolled way . . .” 

“ It is the only way I know of,” said 
Gervase. “ Love must be wild and uncon- 
trolled to save it from banality It must be 
a summer thunderstorm ; the heavy brood- 
ing of the clouds of thought, the lightning 
of desire, then the crash, the downpour, — 
and the end, in which the bland sun smiles 
upon a bland world of dull but wholesome 
routine and tame conventionality, making 
believe that there never was such a thing 
known as the past storm ! Be consoled, 


88 


ZISKA. 


Denzil, and trust me, — you shall have time 
to make your honorable proposal, and 
Madame had better accept you, — for your 
love would last, — mine could not ! ” 

He spoke with a strange fierceness and 
irritability, and his eyes were darkened by a 
sudden shadow of melancholy. Denzil, be- 
wildered at his words and manner, stared at 
him in a kind of helpless indignation. 

“Then you admit yourself to be cruel 
and unprincipled ? ” he said. 

Gervase smiled, with a little shrug of 
impatience. 

“ Do I ? I was not aware of it. Is in- 
constancy to women cruelty and want of 
principle? If so, all men must bear the 
brunt of the accusation with me. For men 
were originally barbarians, and always looked 
upon women as toys or slaves ; the barbaric 
taint is not out of us yet, I assure you, — at 
any rate, it is not out of me. I am a pure 
savage ; I consider the love of woman as 
my right ; if I win it, I enjoy it as long as I 
please, but no longer, — and not all the forces 
of heaven and earth should bind me to any 
woman I had once grown weary of.” 

“ If that is your character,” said Murray 
stiffly, “ it were well the Princess Ziska 
should know it.” 


ZISKA 


89 


" True/' and Gervase laughed loudly. 
“ Tell her, mon ami ! Tell her that Arm and 
Gervase is an unprincipled villain, not worth 
a glance from her dazzling eyes ! It will be 
the way to make her adore me ! My good 
boy, do you not know that there is some- 
thing very marvellous in the attraction we 
call love ? It is a pre-ordained destiny, — 
and if one soul is so constituted that it 
must meet and mix with another, nothing 
can hinder the operation. So that, believe 
me, I am quite indifferent as to what you 
say of me to Madame la Princesse or to 
anyone else. It will not be for either my 
looks or my character that she will love me 
if, indeed, she ever does love me ; it will be 
for something indistinct, indefinable but 
resistless in us both, which no one on earth 
can explain. And now I must go, Denzil, 
and claim the fair one for this waltz. Try 
and look less miserable, my dear fellow, — I 
will not quarrel with you on the Princess’s 
account, nor on any other pretext if I can 
help it, — for I don’t want to kill you, and 
I am convinced your death and not mine 
would be the result of a fight between us ! ” 
His eyes flashed under his straight, fierce 
brows with a sudden touch of imperiousness, 
and his commanding presence became mag- 


90 


ZISKA 


netic, almost over-powering. Tormented 
with a dozen cross-currents of feeling, young 
Denzil Murray was mute ; — only his breath 
came and went quickly, and there was a 
certain silently-declared antagonism in his 
very attitude. Gervase saw it and smiled ; 
then turning away with his peculiarly noise- 
less step and grace of bearing, he disap- 
peared. 


ZISKA 


91 


CHAPTER V. 

Ten minutes later the larger number of 
dancers in the ball-room came to a sudden 
pause in their gyrations and stood looking 
on in open-mouthed, reluctantly-admiring 
wonderment at the exquisite waltz move- 
ments of the Princess Ziska as she floated 
past them in the arms of Gervase, who, as a 
“ Bedouin chief,” was perhaps only acting 
his part aright when he held her to him 
with so passionate and close a grip and 
gazed down upon her fair face with such a 
burning ardor in his eyes. Nothing in the 
dancing world was ever seen like the danc- 
ing of these two — nothing so languorously 
beautiful as the swaying grace of their well- 
matched figures gliding to the music in as 
perfectly harmonious a measure as a bird's 
two wings beat to the pulsations of the air. 
People noticed that as the Princess danced 
a tiny tinkling sound accompanied her every 
step; and the more curious observers, peep- 
ing downwards as she flew by, saw that she 


92 


ZISKA 


had kept to the details of ancient Egyptian 
costume so exactly that she even wore san- 
dals, and that her feet, perfectly shaped and 
lovely as perfectly shaped and lovely hands, 
were bare save for the sandal-ribbons which 
crossed them, and which were fastened with 
jewels. Round the slim ankles were light 
bands of gold, also glittering with gems, and 
furthermore adorned by little golden bells 
which produced the pretty tinkling music 
that attracted attention. 

^ “ What a delightful creature she is ! ” said 

Lady Fulkeward, settling her “ Duchess of 
Gainsborough ” hat on her powdered wig 
more becomingly and smiling up in the face 
of Ross Courtney, who happened to be stand- 
ing close by. “ So sweetly unconventional ! 
Everybody here thinks her improper ; she 
may be, but I like her. Fm not a bit of a 
prude.” 

Courtney smiled irreverently at this. 
Prudery and “ old ” Lady Fulkeward were 
indeed wide apart. Aloud he said : 

“ I think whenever a woman is exception- 
ally beautiful she generally gets reported as 
( improper * by her own sex ; especially if 
she has a fascinating manner and dresses 
well.” 

“ So true,” and Lady Fulkeward sim- 


ZISKA 


93 


pered. “ Exactly what I find wherever I 
go ! Poor dear Ziska ! She has to pay the 
penalty for captivating all you men in the 
way she does. I’m sur e yo?i have lost your 
heart to her quite as much as anybody else, 
haven’t you ? ” 

Courtney reddened. 

“ I don’t think so,” he answered ; “ I ad- 
mire her very much, but I haven’t lost my 
heart. . . 

“ Naughty boy ! Don’t prevaricate ! ” and 
Lady Fulkeward smiled in the bewitch- 
ing pearly manner her admirably-made arti- 
ficial teeth allowed her to do. “ Every man 
in the hotel is in love with the Princess, and 
I’m sure I don’t blame them. If I belonged 
to your sex I should be in love with her too. 
As it is, I am in love with the new arrival, 
that glorious creature, Gervase. He is su- 
perb ! He looks like an untamed savage. 
I adore handsome barbarians ! ” 

“ He's scarcely a barbarian, I think,” said 
Courtney, with some amusement ; “ he is 
the great French artist, the ‘lion ’ of Paris 
just now, — only secondary to Sarah Bern- 
hardt.” 

“ Artists are always barbarians,” declared 
Lady Fulkeward enthusiastically. “ They 
paint naughty people without any clothes 


94 


ZISKA 


on ; they never have any idea of time ; they 
never keep their appointments ; and they 
are always falling in love with the wrong 
person and getting into trouble, which is so 
nice of them ! That's why I worship them 
all. They are so refreshingly unlike our 
set ! ” 

Courtney raised his eyebrows inquiringly. 

“You know what I mean by our set," 
went on the vivacious old “ Gainsborough," 
“ the aristocrats whose conversation is limited 
to the weather and scandal, and who are 
so frightfully dull ! Dull ! My dear Ross 
you know how dull they are ! " 

“Well, uponmyword, they are," admitted 
Courtney. “You are right there. I cer- 
tainly agree with you." 

“ I'm sure you do ! They have no ideas. 
Now, artists have ideas, — they live on ideas 
and sentiment. Sentiment is such a beau- 
tiful thing — so charming! I believe that 
fierce-looking Gervase is a creature of senti- 
ment — and how delightful that is ! Of 
course, he’ll paint the Princess Ziska — he 
must paint her, — no one else could do it so 
well. By the way, have you been asked to 
her great party next week ? " 

“ Yes." 

“ And are you going? " 


ZISKA 


95 


“ Most assuredly.” 

“ So am I. That absurd Chetwynd Lyle 
woman came to me this evening and asked 
me if I really thought it would be proper to 
take her ‘ girls * there,” and Lady Fulkeward 
laughed shrilly. “ Girls indeed ! I should 
say those two long, ugly women could go 
anywhere with safety. ‘Do you consider 
the Princess a proper woman?’ she asked, 
and I said, ‘ Certainly, as proper as you 
are.’ ” 

Courtney laughed outright, and began to 
think there was some fun in Lady Fulke- 
ward. 

“ By Jove ! Did you tell her that ? ” 

“ I should think I did ! Oh, I know a 
thing or two about the Chetwynd Lyles, 
but I keep my mouth shut till it suits me to 
open it. I said I was going, and then, of 
course, she said she would.” 

“ Naturally.” 

And Courtney gave the answer vaguely, 
for the waltz was ended, and the Princess 
Ziska, on the arm of Gervase, was leaving 
the ball-room. 

“She’s going,” exclaimed Lady Fulke- 
ward. “ Dear creature ! Excuse me — I 
must speak to her for a moment.” 

And with a swish of her full skirts and a 


96 


ZISKA 


toss of her huge hat and feathers, the lively 
flirt of sixty tripped off with all the agility 
of sixteen, leaving Courtney to follow her or 
remain where he was, just as he chose. He 
hesitated, and during that undecided pause 
was joined by Dr. Maxwell Dean. 

“ A very brilliant and interesting even- 
ing ! ” said that individual, smiling compla- 
cently. “ I don’t remember any time when 
I have enjoyed myself so thoroughly.” 

“ Really ! I shouldn’t have thought you 
a man to care for fancy-dress balls,” said 
Courtney. 

“ Shouldn’t you ? Ha ! Well, some fancy- 
dress balls I might not care for, but this one 
has been highly productive of entertainment 
in every way, and several incidents connected 
with it have opened up to me a new vista of 
research, the possibilities of which are — er 
— very interesting and remarkable.” 

“ Indeed ! ” murmured Courtney indiffer- 
ently, his eyes fixed on the slim, supple 
figure of the Princess Ziska as she slowly 
moved amid her circle of admirers out of the 
ball-room, her golden skirts gleaming sun- 
like against the polished floor, and the jewels 
about her flashing in vivid points of light 
from the hem of her robe to the snake in her 
hair. 


ZISKA 


97 


“ Yes/' continued the Doctor, smiling and 
rubbing his hands, “ I think I have got the 
clue to a very interesting problem. But I 
see you are absorbed — and no wonder ! A 
charming woman, the Princess Ziska — charm- 
ing ! Do you believe in ghosts ? ” 

This question was put with such unex- 
pected abruptness that Courtney was quite 
taken aback. 

“ Ghosts ?” he echoed. “No, I cannot 
say I do. I have never seen one, and I have 
never heard of one that did not turn out a 
bogus.” 

“ Oh ! I don’t mean the usual sort of 
ghost,” said the Doctor, drawing his shelv- 
ing brows together in a meditative knot of 
criss-cross lines over his small, speculative 
eyes. “ The ghost that is common to Scotch 
castles and English manor-houses, and that 
appears in an orthodox night-gown, sighs, 
screams, rattles chains and bangs doors ad 
libitum . No, no ! That kind of ghost is 
composed of indigestion, aided by rats and 
a gust of wind. No ; when I say ghosts, I 
mean ghosts — ghosts that do not need the 
midnight hour to evolve themselves into be- 
ing, and that by no means vanish at cock- 
crow. My ghosts are those that move about 
among us in social intercourse for days, 
7 


98 


ZISKA. 


months — sometimes years — according to 
their several missions ; ghosts that talk to 
us, imitate our customs and ways, shake 
hands with us, laugh and dance with us, and 
altogether comport themselves like human 
beings. Those are my kind of ghosts — 
‘ scientific ’ ghosts. There are hundreds, aye, 
perhaps thousands of them in the world at 
this very moment/’ 

An uncomfortable shudder ran through 
Courtney’s veins ; the Doctor’s manner 
seemed peculiar and uncanny. 

“ By Jove ! I hope not ! ” he involuntarily 
exclaimed. “ The orthodox ghost is an in- 
finitely better arrangement. One at least 
knows what to expect. But a ‘ scientific ’ 
ghost that moves about in society, resem- 
bling ourselves in every respect, appearing to 
be actually human and yet having no hu- 
manity at all in its composition, is a terrific 
notion indeed ! You don’t mean to say you 
believe \n the possibility of such an appall- 
ing creature ? ” 

“ I not only believe it,” answered the 
Doctor composedly, “ I know it ! ” 

Here the band crashed out “ God save the 
Queen,” which, as a witty Italian once re- 
marked, is the De Profundis of every Eng- 
lish festivity. 


ZISKA 


99 

“ But — God bless my soul ! ” began Court- 
ney. . . 

“ No, don’t say that ! ” urged the Doctor. 
“ Say ‘ God save the Queen.’ It’s more 
British.” 

“ Bother ‘ God save the Queen,’ ” exclaim- 
ed Courtney impatiently. — “ Look here, you 
don’t mean it seriously, do you ? ” 

“ I always mean everything seriously,” said 
Dr. Dean, — “ even my jokes.” 

“ Now come, no nonsense, Doctor,” and 
Courtney, taking his arm, led him towards 
one of the windows opening out to the 
moonlit garden, — “can you, as an honest 
man, assure me in sober earnest that there 
are i scientific ghosts ’ of the nature you 
describe ? ” 

The little Doctor surveyed the scenery, 
glanced up at the moon, and then at his 
companion’s pleasant but not very intelli- 
gent face. 

“ I would rather not discuss the matter,” 
he said at last, with some brusqueness. 
“ There are certain subjects connected with 
psychic phenomena on which it is best to be 
silent; besides, what interest can such things 
have for you? You are a sportsman, — keep 
to your big game, and leave ghost-hunting 
4;o me.” 


100 


ZISKA 


“ That is not a fair answer to my ques- 
tion/* said Courtney, “ I’m sure I don’t want 
to interfere with your researches in any way ; 
I only want to know if it is a fact that ghosts 
exist, and that they are really of such a 
nature as to deserve the term ‘ scientific.' ” 

Dr. Dean was silent a moment. Then, 
stretching out his small, thin hand, he point- 
ed to the clear sky, where the stars were 
almost lost to sight in the brilliance of the 
moon. 

“ Look out there ! ” he said, his voice 
thrilling with sudden and solemn fervor. 
“ There in the limitless ether move millions 
of universes — vast creations which our finite 
brains cannot estimate without reeling, — 
enormous forces always at work, in the 
mighty movements of which our earth is 
nothing more than a grain of sand. Yet far 
more marvellous than their size or number 
is the mathematical exactitude of their pro- 
portions, — the minute perfection of their 
balance, — the exquisite precision with which 
every one part is fitted to another part, not 
a pin's point awry, not a hair's breadth 
astray. Well, the same exactitude which 
rules the formation and working of Matter 
controls the formation and working of Spirit ; 
and this is why I know that ghosts exist, 


ZISKA 


IOI 


and, moreover, that we are compelled by the 
laws of the phenomena surrounding us to 
meet them every day.” 

“ I confess I do not follow you at all,” 
said Courtney bewildered. 

“ No,” and Dr. Dean smiled curiously. 
“ I have perhaps expressed myself obscurely. 
Yet I am generally considered a clear ex- 
ponent. First of all, let me ask you, do you 
believe in the existence of Matter ? ” 
u Why, of course ! ” 

“ You do. Then you will no doubt admit 
that there is Something — an Intelligent 
Principle or Spiritual Force — which creates 
and controls this Matter ? ” 

Courtney hesitated. 

“ Well, I suppose there must be,” he said 
at last. “ I’m not a church-goer, and I’m 
rather a free-thinker, but I certainly believe 
there is a Mind at work behind the Matter.” 

“ That being the case,” proceeded the 
Doctor, “ I suppose you will not deny to 
this Invisible Mind the same exactitude of 
proportion and precise method of action 
already granted to Visible Matter? ” 

“ Of course, I could not deny such a rea- 
sonable proposition,” said Courtney. 

“ Very good ! Pursuing the argument logi- 
cally, and allowing for an exactly-moving 


102 


ZISKA 


Mind behind exactly-working Matter, it fol- 
lows that there can be no such thing as in- 
justice anywhere in the universe ? ” 

“ My dear Socrates redivivus ,” laughed 
Courtney, “ I fail to see what all this has to 
do with ghosts.” 

“ It has everything to do with them,” de- 
clared the Doctor emphatically, “ I repeat 
that if we grant these already stated pre- 
mises concerning the composition of Mind 
and Matter, there can be no such thing as 
injustice. Yet seemingly unjust things are 
done every day, and seemingly go unpun- 
ished. I say ‘ seemingly * advisedly, because 
the punishment is always administered. And 
here the ‘ scientific ghosts 9 come in. ‘ Venge- 
ance is mine/ saith the Lord, — and the ghosts 
I speak of are the Lord's way of doing it.” 

“ You mean ...” began Courtney. 

“ I mean,” continued the Doctor with some 
excitement, “ that the sinner who imagines 
his sins are undiscovered is a fool who de- 
ceives himself. I mean that the murderer 
who has secretly torn the life out of his 
shrieking victim in some unfrequented spot, 
and has succeeded in hiding his crime from 
what we call ‘justice/ cannot escape the 
Spiritual law of vengeance. What would 
you say,” and Dr. Dean laid his thin fingers 


ZISKA 


103 


on Courtney's coat-sleeve with a light pres- 
sure, — “ if I told you that the soul of a mur- 
dered creature is often sent back to earth in 
human shape to dog its murderer down? 
And that many a criminal undiscovered by 
the police is haunted by a seeming Person, 
- — a man or a woman, — who is on terms of 
intimacy with him, — who eats at his table, 
drinks his wine, clasps his hand, smiles in his 
face, and yet is truly nothing but the ghost 
of his victim in human disguise, sent to 
drag him gradually to his well-deserved, 
miserable end ; what would you say to such 
a thing? ” 

“ Horrible ! ” exclaimed Courtney, recoil- 
ing. “ Beyond everything monstrous and 
horrible ! ” 

The Doctor smiled and withdrew his hand 
from his companion’s arm. 

“ There are a great many horrible things 
in the universe as well as pleasant ones,” he 
observed dryly. “ Crime and its results are 
always of a disagreeable nature. But we can- 
not alter the psychic law of equity any more 
than we can alter the material law of 
gravitation. It is growing late ; I think, if 
you will excuse me, I will go to bed.” 

Courtney look at him puzzled and baffled. 

“ Then your ‘ scientific ghosts ’ are positive 


104 


ZISKA 


realities ? ” he began ; here he gave a violent 
start as a tall white figure suddenly moved 
out of the shadows in the garden and came 
slowly towards them. “ Upon my life, Doc- 
tor, you have made me quite nervous ! ” 

“ No, no, surely not,” smiled the Doctor 
pleasantly — “ not nervous! Not such a 
brave killer of game as you are ! No, no ! 
You don’t take Monsieur Armand Gervase 
for a ghost, do you ? He is too substantial, 
— far too substantial ! Ha ! ha ! ha ! ” 

And he laughed quietly, the wrinkled 
smile still remaining on his face as Gervase 
approached. 

“ Everybody is going to bed,” said the 
great artist lazily. “ With the departure of 
the Princess Ziska, the pleasures of the even- 
ing are ended.” 

“ She is certainly the belle of Cairo this 
season,” said Courtney, “ but I tell you what, 
— I am rather sorry to see young Murray has 
lost his head about her.” 

“ Parbleu ! So am I,” said Gervase imper- 
turbably ; “ it seems a pity.” 

“ He will get over it,” interposed Dr. Dean 
placidly. “ It’s an illness, — like typhoid, — 
we must do all we can to keep down the 
temperature of the patient, and we shall pull 
him through.” 


ZISKA 


105 


“ Keep him cool, in short ! ” laughed Ger- 
vase. 

“ Exactly ! ” The little Doctor smiled 
shrewdly. “You look feverish, Monsieur 
Gervase.” 

Gervase flushed red under his dark skin. 

“ I daresay I am feverish,” he replied 
irritably, — “ I find this place hot as an oven. 
I think I should go away to-morrow if I had 
not asked the Princess Ziska to sit to me.” 

“You are going to paint her picture ? ” 
exclaimed Courtney. “By Jove! I con- 
gratulate you. It will be the masterpiece 
of the next salon” 

Gervase bowed. 

“You flatter me! The Princess is un- 
doubtedly an attractive subject. But, as I 
said before, this place stifles me. I think 
the hotel is too near the river, — there is an 
oozy smell from the Nile that I hate, and 
the heat is perfectly sulphureous. Don’t 
you find it so, Doctor?” 

“ N-n-o ! I cannot say that I do. Let me 
feel your pulse ; I am not a medical man — 
but I can easily recognize any premonitions 
of illness.” 

Gervase held out his long, brown, well- 
shaped hand, and the savanf s small, cool fin- 
gers pressed lightly on his wrist. 


io 6 


ZISKA 


“You are quite well, Monsieur Gervase," 
he said after a pause, — “You have a little 
sur-excitation of the nerves, certainly, — but 
it is not curable by medicine/' He dropped 
the hand he held, and looked up — “ Good- 
night ! ” 

“ Good-night ! " responded Gervase. 

“ Good-night ! ” added Courtney. 

And with an amiable salutation the Doctor 
went his way. The ball-room was now quite 
deserted, and the hotel servants were extin- 
guishing the lights. 

“ A curious little man, that Doctor," ob- 
served Gervase, addressing Courtney, to whom 
as yet he had not been formally introduced. 

“ Very curious ! ” was the reply. “ I have 
known him for some years, — he is a very 
clever man, but I have never been able quite 
to make him out. I think he is a bit eccentric. 
He's just been telling me he believes in 
ghosts." 

“ Ah, poor fellow ! " and Gervase yawned 
as, with his companion, he crossed the de- 
serted ball-room. “ Then he has what you 
call a screw loose. I suppose it is that which 
makes him interesting. Good-night ! " 

“ Good-night ! " 

And separating, they went their several 
ways to the small, cell-like bedrooms, which 


ZISKA 


107 


are the prime discomfort of the Gezireh 
Palace Hotel, and soon a great silence reigned 
throughout the building. All Cairo slept, — 
save where at an open lattice window the 
moon shone full on a face up-turned to her 
silver radiance, — the white, watchful face, 
and dark, sleepless eyes of the Princess 
Ziska. 


io8 


ZISKA 


CHAPTER VI. 

Next day the ordinary course of things 
was resumed at the Gezireh Palace Hotel, 
and the delights and flirtations of the fancy- 
ball began to vanish into what Hans Breit- 
mann calls “the ewigkeit .” Men were lazier 
than usual and came down later to breakfast, 
and girls looked worn and haggard with 
over-much dancing, but otherwise there was 
no sign to indicate that the festivity of the 
past evening had left “ tracks behind,” or 
made a lasting impression of importance 
on any human life. Lady Chetwynd Lyle, 
portly and pig-faced, sat on the terrace 
working at an elaborate piece of cross- 
stitch, talking scandal in the civilest tone 
imaginable, and damning all her “ dear 
friends ” with that peculiar air of entire 
politeness and good breeding which dis- 
tinguishes certain ladies when they are say- 
ing nasty things about one another. Her 
daughters, Muriel and Dolly, sat dutifully 
near her, one reading the Daily Dial y as be- 


ZISKA 


IO9 


fitted the offspring of the editor and pro- 
prietor thereof, the other knitting. Lord 
Fulkeward lounged on the balustrade close 
by, and his lovely mother, attired in quite 
a charming and girlish costume of white 
foulard exquisitely cut and fitting into a 
waist not measuring more than twenty-two 
inches, reclined in a long deck-chair, looking 
the very pink of painted and powdered per- 
fection. 

“You are so very lenient,” Lady Chet- 
wynd Lyle was saying, as she bent over her 
needlework. “ So very lenient, my dear 
Lady Fulkeward, that I am afraid you do 
not read people's characters as correctly as 
I do. I have had, owing to my husband's 
position in journalism, a great deal of social 
experience, and I assure you I do not think 
the Princess Ziska a safe person. She may 
be perfectly proper — she may be — but she 
is not the style we are accustomed to in 
London.” 

“ I should rather think not ! ” interrupted 
Lord Fulkeward, hastily. “By Jove! She 
wouldn't have a hair left on her head in 
London, don'cher know ! ” 

“What do you mean?” inquired Muriel 
Chetwynd Lyle, simpering. “You really do 
say such funny things, Lord Fulkeward ! ” 


IIO 


ZISKA 


“ Do I ? ” and the young nobleman was so 
alarmed and embarrassed at the very idea 
of his ever saying funny things that he was 
rendered quite speechless for a moment. 
Anon he took heart and resumed : “ Er — 
well — I mean that the society women would 
tear her to bits in no time. She’d get asked 
nowhere, but she’d get blackguarded every- 
where; she couldn’t help herself with that 
face and those eyes.” 

His mother laughed. 

“ Dear Fulke! You are such a naughty 
boy ! You shouldn’t make such remarks 
before Lady Lyle. She never says any- 
thing against anyone ! ” 

“ Dear Fulke ” stared. Had he given 
vent to his feelings he would have ex- 
claimed : “ Oh, Lord ! — isn’t the old lady 
a deep one ! ” But as it was he attended 
to his young moustache anxiously and re- 
mained silent. Lady Chetwynd Lyle mean- 
while flushed with annoyance ; she felt that 
Lady Fulkeward’s remark was sarcastic, but 
she could not very well resent it, seeing that 
Lady Fulkeward was a peeress of the realm, 
and that she herself, by the strict laws of 
heraldry, was truly only “ Dame ” Chetwynd 
Lyle, as wife of an ordinary knight, and had 
no business to be called “ her ladyship ” at all. 


ZISKA 


III 


I should, indeed, be sorry,” she said, 
primly, “ if I were mistaken in my private 
estimate of the Princess Ziska’s character, 
but I must believe my own eyes and the 
evidence of my own senses, and surely no 
one can condone the extremely fast way in 
which she behaved with that new man — 
that French artist, Armand Gervase — last 
night. Why, she danced six times with 
him ! And she actually allowed him to 
walk home with her through the streets of 
Cairo ! They went off together, in their 
fancy dresses, just as they were! I never 
heard of such a thing ! ” 

“ Oh, there was nothing remarkable at all 
in that,” said Lord Fulkeward. “ Every- 
body went about the place in fancy costume 
last night. I went out in my Neapolitan 
dress with a girl, and I met Denzil Murray 
coming down a street just behind here — 
took him for a Florentine prince, upon my 
word ! And I bet you Gervase never got 
beyond the door of the Princess's palace ; 
for that blessed old Nubian she keeps — the 
chap with a face like a mummy — bangs the 
gate in everybody’s face, and says in gut- 
tural French: 1 La Princesse ne voit per-r-r - 
sonne ! ’ Fve tried it. I tell you it’s no 
go!” 


1 12 


ZISKA 


“Well, we shall all get inside the mysteri- 
ous palace next Wednesday evening/' said 
Lady Fulkeward, closing her eyes with a 
graceful air of languor. “ It will be charm- 
ing, I am sure, and I daresay we shall find 
that there is no mystery at all about it.” 

“ Two months ago," suddenly said a 
smooth voice behind them, “the Ziska’s 
house or palace was uninhabited." 

Lady Fulkeward gave a little scream and 
looked round. 

“ Good gracious, Dr. Dean ! How you 
frightened me ! " 

The Doctor made an apologetic bow. 

“ I am very sorry. I forgot you were so 
sensitive ; pray pardon me ! As I was say- 
ing, two months ago the palace of the Prin- 
cess Ziska was a deserted barrack. Formerly, 
so I hear, it used to be the house of some 
great personage ; but it had been allowed to 
fall into decay, and nobody would rent it, 
even for the rush of the Cairene season, 
till it was secured by the Nubian you were 
speaking of just now — the interesting Nubian 
with the face like a mummy ; he took it and 
furnished it, and when it was ready Madame 
la Princesse appeared on the scene and has 
resided there every since." 

“ I wonder what that Nubian has to 


ZISKA 


1 13 


do with her?” said Lady Chetwynd Lyle, 
severely. 

“ Nothing at all,” replied the Doctor, 
calmly. “ He is the merest servant — the 
kind of person who is ‘ told off ’ to attend 
on the women of a harem.” 

“ Ah, I see you have been making inquiries 
concerning the princess, Doctor, ” said Lady 
Fulkeward, with a smile. 

“ I have.” 

“ And have you found out anything about 
her ? ” 

“No; that is, nothing of social importance, 
except, perhaps, two items — first, that she 
is not a Russian ; secondly, that she has 
never been married.” 

“ Never been married ! ” exclaimed Lady 
Chetwynd Lyle, then suddenly turning to 
her daughters she said blandly : “ Muriel, 
Dolly, go into the house, my dears. It is 
getting rather warm for you on this terrace. 
I will join you in a few minutes.” 

The “ girls ” rose obediently with a de- 
lightfully innocent and juvenile air, and 
fortunately for them did not notice the irrev- 
erent smile that played on young Lord Fulke- 
ward’s face, which was immediately reflected 
on the artistically tinted countenance of his 
mother, at the manner of their dismissal. 

8 


ZISKA 


114 

“ There is surely nothing improper in never 
having been married," said Dr. Dean, with a 
mock serious air. “ Consider, my dear Lady 
Lyle, is there not something very chaste and 
beautiful in the aspect of an old maid ?" 

Lady Lyle looked up sharply. She had 
an idea that both she and her daughters were 
being quizzed, and she had some difficulty 
to control her rising temper. 

“ Then do you call the Princess an old 
maid ? " she demanded. 

Lady Fulkeward looked amused; her son 
laughed outright. But the Doctor's face 
was perfectly composed. 

“ I don't know what else I can call her," 
he said, with a thoughtful air. “ She is no 
longer in her teens, and she has too much 
voluptuous charm for an ingenue. Still, I 
admit, you would scarcely call her ‘ old ' ex- 
cept in the parlance of the modern matri- 
monial market. Our present-day routs, you 
know, prefer their victims young, and I fancy 
the Princess Ziska would be too old and 
perhaps too clever for most of them. Person- 
ally speaking, she does not impress me as 
being of any particular age, but as she is not 
married, and is, so to speak, a maid fully 
developed, I am perforce obliged to call her 
an old maid." 


ZISKA 


115 

“ She wouldn’t thank you for the com- 
pliment,” said Lady Lyle with a spiteful 
grin. 

“ I daresay not,” responded the Doctor 
blandly, “ but I imagine she has very little 
personal vanity. Her mind is too preoccu- 
pied with something more important than 
the consideration of her own good looks.” 

“ And what is that ? ” inquired Lady 
Fulkeward, with some curiosity. 

“ Ah ! there is the difficulty ! What is 
it that engrosses our fair friend more than 
the looking-glass ? I should like to know — 
but I cannot find out. It is an enigma as 
profound as that of the sphinx. Good- 
morning, Monsieur Gervase ! ” — and, turning 
round, he addressed the artist, who just then 
stepped out on the terrace carrying a paint- 
box and a large canvas strapped together in 
portable form. “ Are you going to sketch 
some picturesque corner of the city ? ” 

“ No,” replied Gervase, listlessly raising 
his white sun-hat to the ladies present with 
a courteous, yet somewhat indifferent grace. 
“ I’m going to the Princess Ziska’s. I shall 
probably get the whole outline of her fea- 
tures this morning.” 

“A full-length portrait?” inquired the 
Doctor. 


n6 


ZISKA 


“I fancy not. Not the first attempt, at 
any rate — head and shoulders only.” 

“ Do you know where her house is?” 
asked Lord Fulkeward. “ If you don’t, I’ll 
walk with you and show you the way.” 

“ Thanks — you are very good. I shall be 
obliged to you.” 

And raising his hat again he sauntered 
slowly off, young Fulkeward walking with 
him and chatting to him with more anima- 
tion than that exhausted and somewhat 
vacant-minded aristocrat usually showed to 
anyone. 

“ It is exceedingly warm,” said Lady 
Lyle, rising then and putting away her cross- 
stitch apparatus, “ I thought of driving to the 
Pyramids this afternoon, but really . . .” 

“ There is shade all the way,” suggested 
the Doctor, “I said as much to a young 
woman this morning who has been in the 
hotel for nearly two months, and hasn’t seen 
the Pyramids yet.” 

“ What has she been doing with herself ? ” 
asked Lady Fulkeward, smiling. 

“ Dancing with officers,” said Dr. Dean. 
“ How can Cheops compare with a mous- 
tached noodle in military uniform ! Good- 
bye for the present ; I’m going to hunt for 
scarabei.” 


ZISKA 


ii 7 


“ I thought you had such a collection of 
them already,” said Lady Lyle. 

“ So I have. But the Princess had a re- 
markable one on last night, and I want to 
find another like it. It’s blue — very blue — 
almost like a rare turquoise, and it appears it 
is the sign-manual of the warrior Araxes, who 
was a kind of king in his way, or desert chief, 
which was about the same thing in those 
days. He fought for Amenhotep, and 
seemed from all accounts to be a greater man 
than Amenhotep himself. The Princess 
Ziska is a wonderful Egyptologist ; I had a 
most interesting conversation with her last 
night in the supper-room.” 

“ Then she is really a woman of culture 
and intelligence? ” queried Lady Lyle. 

The Doctor smiled. 

“ I should say she would be a great deal 
too much for the University of Oxford, as 
far as Oriental learning goes,” he said. “ She 
can read the Egyptian papyri, she tells me, 
and she can decipher anything on any of the 
monuments. I only wish I could persuade 
her to accompany me to Thebes and 
Karnak.” 

Lady Fulkeward unfurled her fan and 
swayed it to and fro with an elegant languor. 

“ How delightful that would be ! ” she 


1 1 8 


ZISKA 


sighed. “ So romantic and solemn — all those 
dear old cities with those marvellous figures 
of the Egyptians carved and painted on the 
stones! And Rameses — dearRameses! He 
really has good legs everywhere ! Haven’t 
you noticed that ? So many of these ancient 
sculptures represent the Egyptians with 
such angular bodies and such frightfully thin 
legs, but Rameses always has good legs 
wherever you find him. It’s so refreshing ! 
Do make up a party, Dr. Dean ! — we’ll all 
go with you ; and I’m sure the Princess 
Ziska will be the most charming companion 
possible. Let us have a dahabeah ! I’m 
good for half the expenses, if you will only 
arrange everything.” 

The Doctor stroked his chin and looked 
dubious, but he was evidently attracted by 
the idea. 

“ I’ll see about it,” he said at last. 
“ Meanwhile I’ll go and have a hunt for some 
traces of Amenhotep and Araxes.” 

He strolled down the terrace, and Lady 
Chetwynd Lyle, turning her back on “ old ” 
Lady Fulkeward, went after her “ girls,” 
while the fascinating Fulkeward herself con- 
tinued to recline comfortably in her chair, 
and presently smiled a welcome on a young- 
ish-looking man with a fair moustache who 


ZISKA 


II 9 

came forward and sat down beside her, talk- 
ing to her in low, tender and confidential 
tones. He was the very impecunious colonel 
of one of the regiments then stationed in 
Cairo, and as he never wasted time on senti- 
ment, he had been lately thinking that a 
marriage with a widowed peeress who had 
twenty thousand pounds a year in her own 
right might not be a “ half bad ” arrange- 
ment for him. So he determined to do the 
agreeable, and as he was a perfect adept 
in the art of making love without feeling it, 
he got on very well, and his prospects 
brightened steadily hour by hour. 

Meanwhile young Fulkeward was escort- 
ing Armand Gervase through several narrow 
by-streets, talking to him as well as he knew 
how and trying in his feeble way to “ draw 
him out,” in which task he met with but 
indifferent success. 

“ It must be awfully jolly and — er — all 
that sort of thing to be so famous,” he ob- 
served, glancing up at the strong, dark, 
brooding face above him. “ They had a 
picture of yours over in London once ; I went 
to see it with my mother. It was called 
‘ Le Poignard ,’ do you remember it ? ” 

Gervase shrugged his shoulders carelessly. 

‘'Yes, I remember. A poor thing at its 


120 


ZISKA 


best. It was a woman with a dagger in her 
hand.” 

“ Yes, awfully fine, don’cher know! She 
was a very dark woman — too dark for my 
taste, — and she’d got a poignard clasped in 
in her right hand. Of course, she was going 
to murder somebody with it ; that was plain 
enough. You meant it so, didn’t you ? ” 

“ I suppose I did.” 

“ She was in a sort of Eastern get-up,” 
pursued Fulkeward, “one of your former 
studies in Egypt, perhaps.” 

Gervase started, and passed his hand across 
his forehead with a bewildered air. 

“ No, no ! Not a former study, by any 
means. How could it be? This is my first 
visit to Egypt. I have never been here 
before.” 

“ Haven’t you ? Really ! Well, you’ll 
find it awfully interesting and all that sort 
of thing. I don’t see half as much of it as 
I should like. I’m a weak chap — got some- 
thing wrong with my lungs, — awful bother, 
but can’t be helped. My mother won’t let 
me do too much. Here we are ; this is the 
Princess Ziska’s.” 

They were standing in a narrow street 
ending in a cul-de-sac y with tall houses on 
each side which cast long, black, melancholy 


ZISKA 


1 2 1 


shadows on the rough pavement below. A 
vague sense of gloom and oppression stole 
over Gervase as he surveyed the outside of 
the particular dwelling Fulkeward pointed 
out to him — a square, palatial building, which 
had no doubt once been magnificent in its 
exterior adornment, but which now, owing 
to long neglect, had fallen into somewhat 
melancholy decay. The sombre portal, fan- 
tastically ornamented with designs copied 
from some of the Egyptian monuments, 
rather resembled the gateway of a tomb 
than an entrance to the private residence of 
a beautiful living woman, and Fulkeward, 
noting his companion's silence, added : 

“ Not a very cheerful corner, is it ? Some 
of these places are regular holes, don'cher 
know ; but I daresay it’s all right inside.” 

“ You have never been inside ? ” 

“ Never.” And Fulkeward lowered his 
voice : “ Look up there ; there's the beast 
that keeps everybody out ! ” 

Gervase followed his glance, and perceived 
behind the projecting carved lattice-work of 
one of the windows a dark, wrinkled face 
and two gleaming eyes which, even at that 
distance, had, or appeared to have, a some- 
what sinister expression. 

“ He's the nastiest type of Nubian I have 


122 


ZISKA 


ever seen,” pursued Fulkeward. “ Looks just 
like a galvanized corpse.” 

Gervase smiled, and perceiving a long bell- 
handle at the gateway, pulled it sharply. 
In another moment the Nubian appeared, 
his aspect fully justifying Lord Fulkeward’s 
description of him. The parchment-like skin 
on his face was yellowish-black, and wrinkled 
in a thousand places ; his lips were of a livid 
blue, and were drawn up and down above 
and below the teeth in a kind of fixed grin, 
while the dense brilliance of his eyes was 
so fierce and fiery as to suggest those of 
some savage beast athirst for prey. 

“ Madame la Princesse Ziska ,” began Ger- 
vase, addressing his unfascinating object 
with apparent indifference to his hideousness. 

The Nubian's grinning lips stretched them- 
selves wider apart as, in a thick, snarling 
voice he demanded : 

“ Voire nom ? ” 

“ Armand Gervase .” 

“ Entrez ! ” 

“ Et moi ?” queried Fulkeward, with a 
conciliatory smile. 

“Non! Pas vous. Monsieur Armand 
Gervase, seul ! ” 

Fulkeward gave a resigned shrug of his 
shoulders ; Gervase looked round at him ere 


ZISKA 


123 


he crossed the threshold of the mysterious 
habitation. 

“ I’m sorry you have to walk back alone.” 

“ Don’t mention it,” said Fulkeward 
affably. “ You see, you have come on busi- 
ness. You’re going to paint the Princess’s 
picture ; and I daresay this blessed old rascal 
knows that I want nothing except to look at 
his mistress and wonder what she’s made of.” 

“ What she’s made of?” echoed Gervase 
in surprise. “ Don’t you think she’s made 
like other women ? ” 

“No; can’t say I do. She seems all fire 
and vapor and eyes in the middle, don’cher 
know. Oh, I’m an ass — always was — but 
that’s the feeling she gives me. Ta-ta! 
Wish you a pleasant morning ! ” 

He nodded and strolled away, and Gervase 
hesitated yet another moment, looking full 
at the Nubian, who returned him stare for 
stare. 

“ M aint ena7it ? ” he began. 

“ Oui, maintenant ,” echoed the Nubian. 

“ La Prince sse , ok est elle ? ” 

“ Let ! ” and the Nubian pointed down a 
long, dark passage beyond which there 
seemed to be the glimmer of green palms 
and other foliage. Elle vous attend , Mon- 
sieur A rmand Gervase ! Entrez ! Suivez / ” 


124 


ZISKA 


Slowly Gervase passed in, and the great 
tomb-like door closed upon him with a heavy 
clang. The whole long, bright day passed, 
and he did not reappear ; not a human foot 
crossed the lonely street and nothing was 
seen there all through the warm sunshiny 
hours save the long, black shadows on the 
pavement, which grew longer and darker as 
the evening fell. 


ZISKA 


125 


CHAPTER VII. 

Within the palace of the Princess Ziska 
a strange silence reigned. In whatever way 
the business of her household was carried on, 
it was evidently with the most absolute 
noiselessness, for not a sound disturbed the 
utter stillness environing her. She herself, 
clad in white garments that clung about her 
closely, displaying the perfect outlines of her 
form, stood waiting for her guest in a room 
that was fairly dazzling to the eye in its pro- 
fusion of exquisitely assorted and harmonized 
colors, as well as impressive to the mind in 
its suggestions of the past rather than of 
the present. Quaint musical instruments of 
the fashion of thousands of years ago hung 
on the walls or lay on brackets and tables, 
but no books such as our modern time pro- 
duces were to be seen ; only tied-up bundles 
of papyri and curious little tablets of 
clay inscribed with mysterious hieroglyphs. 
Flowers adorned eveiy corner — many of 
them strange blossoms which a connoisseur 
would have declared to be unknown in 


126 


ZISKA 


Egypt, — palms and ferns and foliage of every 
description were banked up against the walls 
in graceful profusion, and from the latticed 
windows the light filtered through colored 
squares, giving a kind of rainbow-effect to 
the room, as though it were a scene in a 
dream rather than a reality. And even more 
dream-like than her surroundings was the 
woman who awaited the approach of her 
visitor, her eyes turned towards the door — 
fiery eyes filled with such ardent watchful- 
ness as seemed to burn the very air. The 
eyes of a hawk gleaming on its prey, — the 
eyes of a famished tiger in the dark, were 
less fraught with terrific meaning than the 
eyes of Ziska as she listened attentively to 
the on-coming footsteps through the outside 
corridor which told her that Gervase was 
near. 

“ At last ! ” she whispered, “ at last ! ” 

The next moment the Nubian flung the 
door wide open and announced “ Monsieur 
Armand Gervase ! ” 

She advanced with all the wonderful grace 
which distinguished her, holding out both 
her slim, soft hands. Gervase caught them 
in his own and kissed them fervently, where- 
upon the Nubian retired, closing the door 
after him. 


ZISKA 


127 


“You are very welcome, Monsieur Ger- 
vase,” said the Princess then, speaking with 
a measured slowness that was attractive as 
well as soothing to the ear. “You have 
left all the dear English people well at the 
Gezireh Palace? Lady Fulkeward was not 
too tired after her exertions at the ball? 
And you ? ” 

But Gervase was gazing at her in a speech- 
less confusion of mind too great for words. 
A sudden, inexplicable emotion took pos- 
session of him, — an emotion to which he 
could give no name, but which stupefied 
him and held him mute. Was it her beauty 
which so dazzled his senses ? Was it some 
subtle perfume in the room that awoke a 
dim haunting memory ? Or what was it 
that seemed so strangely familiar? He 
struggled with himself, and finally spoke 
out his thought : 

“ I have seen you before, Princess ; I am 
quite sure I have ! I thought I had last 
night; but to-day I am positive about it. 
Strange, isn’t it ? I wonder where we really 
met?” 

Her dark eyes rested on him fully. 

“ I wonder! ” she echoed, smiling. “ The 
world is so small, and so many people now- 
adays make the * grand tour, * that it is not 


128 


ZISKA 


at all surprising we should have passed each 
other en route through our journey of life. ,, 

Gervase still hesitated, glancing about him 
with a singularly embarrassed air, while she 
continued to watch him intently. Presently 
his sensations, whatever they were, passed 
off, and gradually recovering his equanimity, 
he became aware that he was quite alone 
with one of the most fascinating women 
he had ever seen. His eyes flashed, and he 
smiled. 

“ I have come to paint your picture,” he 
said softly. “ Shall I begin ? ” 

She had seated herself on a silken divan, 
and her head rested against a pile of richly- 
embroidered cushions. Without waiting 
for her answer, he threw himself down 
beside her and caught her hand in his. 

“ Shall I paint your picture ? ” he whis- 
pered. “ Or shall I make love to you ? ” 
She laughed, — the sweet, low laugh that 
somehow chilled his blood while it charmed 
his hearing. 

“ Whichever you please,” she answered. 
“ Both performances would no doubt be 
works of art ! ” 

“ What do you mean ? ” 

“ Can you not understand? If you paint 
my picture it will be a work of art. If you 


ZISKA 


I29 


& 


make love to me it will equally be a work of 
art : that is, a composed thing — an elabo- 
rate study.” 

“ Bah ! Love is not a composed thing,” 
said Gervase, leaning closer to her. “ It is 
wild, and full of libertinage as the sea.” 

“And equally as fickle,” added the Prin 
cess composedly, taking a fan of feathers 
near her and waving it to and fro. “ Man's 
idea of love is to take all he can get from a 
woman, and give her nothing in return but 
misery sometimes, and sometimes death.” 

“ You do not, — you cannot think that ! ” 
said Gervase, looking at her dazzling face 
with a passion of admiration he made no 
attempt to conceal. “ Men on the whole 
are not as cruel or as treacherous as women. 
I would swear, looking at you, that, beauti- 
ful as you are, you are cruel, and that is 
perhaps why I love you! You are like a 
splendid tigress waiting to be tamed ! ” 
“And you think you could tame me?” 
interposed Ziska, looking at him with an 
inscrutable disdain in her black eyes. 

“ Yes, if you loved me ! ” 

“Ah, possibly ! But then it happens that 
I do not love you. I love no one. I have 
had too much of love ; it is a folly I have 
grown weary of! ” 

9 


130 


ZISKA 


Gervase fixed his eyes on her with an au- 
dacious look which seemed to hint that he 
might possibly take advantage of being alone 
with her to enforce his ideas of love more 
eloquently than was in accordance with the 
proprieties. She perceived his humor, 
smiled, and coldly gave him back glance for 
glance. Then, rising from the divan, she 
drew herself up to her full height and sur- 
veyed him with a kind of indulgent con- 
tempt. 

‘‘ You are an uprincipled man, Armand 
Gervase,” she said; “and do you know I 
fear you always will be ! A cleansing of 
your soul through centuries of fire will be 
necessary for you in the next world, — that 
next world which you do not believe in. 
But it is perhaps as well to warn you that I 
am not without protection in this place. 
. . . See ! ” and as she spoke she clapped 
her hands. 

A clanging noise as of brazen bells an- 
swered her, — and Gervase, springing up from 
his seat, saw, to his utter amazement, the 
apparently solid walls of the room in which 
they were, divide rapidly and form them- 
selves in several square openings which 
showed a much larger and vaster apartment 
beyond, resembling a great hall. Here were 


ZISKA 


131 

assembled some twenty or thirty gorgeously- 
costumed Arab attendants, — men of a dark 
and sinister type, who appeared to be fully 
armed, judging from the unpleasant-looking 
daggers and other weapons they carried at 
their belts. The Princess clapped her hands 
again, and the walls closed in the same rapid 
fashion as they had opened, while the beau- 
tiful mistress of this strange habitation 
laughed mirthfully at the complete confu- 
sion of her visitor and would-be lover. 

“ Paint me now ! ” she said, flinging her- 
self in a picturesque attitude on one of the 
sofas close by ; ‘‘I am ready.” 

“ But / am not ready ! ” retorted Gervase, 
angrily. “ Do you take me for a child, or a 
fool ? ” 

“ Both in one,” responded the Princess, 
tranquilly ; “ being a man ! ” 

His breath came and went quickly. 

“ Take care, beautiful Ziska ! ” he said. 
“ Take care how you defy me ! ” 

“And take care, Monsieur Gervase; take 
care how you defy me ! ” she responded, 
with a strange, quick glance at him. “ Do 
you not realize what folly you are talking ? 
You are making love to me in the fashion of 
a brigand, rather than a nineteenth-century 
Frenchman of good standing, — and I — I have 


132 


ZISKA 


to defend myself against you also brigand- 
wise, by showing you that I have armed 
servants within call ! It is very strange, — it 
would frighten even Lady Fulkeward, and 
I think she is not easily frightened. Pray 
commence your work, and leave such an out- 
of-date matter as love to dreamers and pretty 
sentimentalists, like Miss Helen Murray.” 

He was silent, and busied himself in un- 
strapping his canvas and paint-box with a 
great deal of almost vicious energy. In a 
few moments he had gained sufficient com- 
posure to look full at her, and taking his 
palette in hand, he began dabbing on the 
colors, talking between whiles. 

“ Do you suppose,” he said, keeping his 
voice carefully subdued, “ that you can intim- 
idate me by showing me a score of wretched 
black rascals whom you have placed on guard 
to defend you out there ? And why did you 
place them on guard? You must have been 
afraid of me ! Pardieu t I could snatch 
you out of their midst, if I chose! You do 
not know me ; if you did, you would under- 
stand that not all the world, armed to the 
teeth should balk me of my desires ! But 
I have been too hasty — that I own, — I can 
wait.” He raised his eyes and saw that she 
was listening with an air of amused indiffer- 


ZISKA 


133 


ence. “ I shall have to mix strange tints in 
your portrait, rna belle ! It is difficult to 
find the exact hue of your skin — there is rose 
and brown in it ; and there is yet another 
color which I must evolve while working, 
— and it is not the hue of health. It is 
something dark and suggestive of death ; I 
hope you are not destined to an early grave ! 
And yet, why not ? It is better that a 
beautiful woman should die in her beauty 
than live to become old and tiresome. . . .” 

“You think that?” interrupted the Ziska 
suddenly, smiling somewhat coldly. 

“ I do, most honestly. Had I lived in the 
early days of civilization, when men were 
allowed to have as many women as they 
could provide for, I would have mercifully 
killed any sweet favorite as soon as her beauty 
began to wane. A lovely woman, dead in 
her first exquisite youth, — how beautiful a 
subject for the mind to dwell upon ! How 
it suggests all manner of poetic fancies and 
graceful threnodies ! But a woman grown 
old, who has outlived all passion and is a 
mere bundle of fat, or a mummy of skin and 
bone, — what poetry does her existence sug- 
gest? How can she appeal to art or senti- 
ment ? She is a misery to herself and an 
eyesore to others. Yes, Princess, believe 


134 


ZISKA 


me, — Love first, and Death afterwards, are 
woman’s best friends.” 

“ You believe in Death?” ask the Prin- 
cess, looking steadily at him. 

“ It is the only thing I do believe in,” he 
answered lightly. “ It is a fact that will bear 
examination, but not contradiction. May I 
ask you to turn your head slightly to the left 
— so ! Yes, that will do ; if I can catch the 
look in your eyes that gleams there now, — 
the look of intense, burning, greedy cruelty 
which is so murderously fascinating, I shall 
be content.” 

He seated himself opposite to her, and, 
putting down his palette, took up his canvas, 
and posing it on his knee, began drawing the 
first rough outline of his sketch in charcoal. 
She, meanwhile, leaning against heaped-up 
cushions of amber satin, remained silent. 

“ You are not a vain woman,” he pursued, 
“ or you would resent my description of 
your eyes. ‘ Greedy cruelty * is not a pretty 
expression, nor would it be considered com- 
plimentary by the majority of the fair sex. 
Yet, from my point of view, it is the highest 
flattery I can pay you, for I adore the eyes 
of savage animals, and the beautiful eye of 
the forest-beast is in your head , — diableresse 
charmante conime vous etes ! I wonder what 


ZISKA 


135 


gives you such an insatiate love of venge- 
ance ? ” 

He looked up and saw her eyes glistening 
and narrowing at the corners, like the eyes 
of an angry snake. 

“ If I have such a feeling,’' she replied 
slowly, “ it is probably a question of herit- 
age.” 

“ Ah ! Your parents were perhaps bar- 
baric in their notions of love and hatred ? ” 
he queried, lazily working at his charcoal 
sketch with growing admiration for its re- 
sult. 

“ My parents came of a race of kings ! ” she 
answered. “ All my ancestors were proud, 
and of a temper unknown to this petty day. 
They resented a wrong, they punished false- 
hood and treachery, and they took a life for 
a life. Your generation tolerates every sin 
known in the calendar with a smile and a 
shrug, — you have arrived at the end of your 
civilization, even to the denial of Deity and 
a future life.” 

“ That is not the end of our civilization, 
Princess,” said Gervase, working away in- 
tently, with eyes fixed on the canvas as he 
talked. “ That is the triumphal apex, the 
glory, the culmination of everything that is 
great and supreme in manhood. In France, 


136 


ZISKA 


man now knows himself to be the only God ; 
England — good, slow-pacing England — is ap- 
proaching France in intelligence by degrees, 
and I rejoice to see that it is possible for 
a newspaper like the Agnostic to exist in 
London. Only the other day that excellent 
journal was discussing the possibility of teach- 
ing monkeys to read, and a witty writer, who 
adopts the now de plume of ‘ Saladin,’ very 
cleverly remarked ‘ that supposing monkeys 
were able to read the New Testament, they 
would still remain monkeys ; in fact, they 
would probably be greater monkeys than 
ever.’ The fact of such an expression being 
allowed to pass muster in once pious London 
is an excellent sign of the times and of our 
progress towards the pure Age of Reason. 
The name of Christ is no longer one to con- 
jure with.” 

A dead silence followed his words, and 
the peculiar stillness and heaviness of the 
atmosphere struck him with a vague alarm. 
He lifted his eyes, — the Princess Ziska met 
his gaze steadily, but there was something 
in her aspect that moved him to wonder- 
ment and a curious touch of terror. The 
delicate rose-tint of her cheeks had faded to 
an ashy paleness, her lips were pressed to- 
gether tightly and her eyes seemed to have 


ZISKA 


137 


gained a vivid and angry lustre which Me- 
dusa herself might have envied. 

“Did you ever try to conjure with that 
name ? ” she asked. 

“Never/’ he replied, forcing a smile and 
remonstrating with himself for the inexplica- 
ble nature of his emotions. 

She went on slowly : 

“ In my creed — for I have a creed — it is be- 
lieved that those who have never taken the 
sacred name of Christ to their hearts, as a 
talisman of comfort and support, are left as 
it were in the vortex of uncertainties, tossed 
to and fro among many whirling and mighty 
forces, and haunted forever by the phan- 
toms of their own evil deeds. Till they 
learn and accept the truth of their marvel- 
lous Redemption, they are the prey of wick- 
ed spirits who tempt and lead them on to 
divers miseries. But when the great Name 
of Him who died upon the Cross is acknowl- 
edged, then it is found to be of that trans- 
figuring nature which turns evil to good, 
and sometimes makes angels out of fiends. 
Nevertheless, for the hardened reprobate 
and unbeliever the old laws suffice.” 

Gervase had stopped the quick movement 
of his “ fusin,” and looked at her curiously. 

“ What old laws ? ” he asked. 


138 


ZISKA 


“ Stern justice without mercy! ” she am 
swered ; then in lighter accents she added : 
“ Have you finished your first outline ? ” 

In reply, he turned his canvas round to 
her, showing her a head and profile boldly 
presented in black and white. She smiled. 

“ It is clever ; but it is not like me,” she 
said. “ When you begin the coloring you 
will find that your picture and I have no 
resemblance to each other.” 

He flushed with a sense of wounded 
amour propre . 

“ Pardon, madame ! — I am no novice at 
the art of painting,” he said ; “ and much as 
your charms dazzle and ensnare me, they do 
not disqualify my brain and hand from per- 
fectly delineating them upon my canvas. I 
love you to distraction ; but my passion 
shall not hinder me from making your pic- 
ture a masterpiece.” 

She laughed. 

“ What an egoist you are, Monsieur Ger- 
vase ! ” she said. “ Even in your professed 
passion for me you count yourself first, — me 
afterwards ! ” 

“ Naturally ! ” he replied. “ A man must 
always be first by natural creation. When he 
allows himself to play second fiddle, he is a 
fool ! ” 


ZISKA 


139 


“ And when he is a fool — and he often is — • 
he is the first of fools ! ” said the Princess. 
“ No ape — no baboon hanging by its tail to 
a tree — looks such a fool as a man-fool. For 
a man-fool has had all the opportunities of 
education and learning bestowed upon him ; 
this great universe, with its daily lessons of 
the natural and the supernatural, is his book 
laid open for his reading, and when he will 
neither read it nor consider it, and, more- 
over, when he utterly denies the very Maker 
of it, then there is no fool in all creation like 
him. For the ape-fool does at least admit 
that there may be a stronger beast some- 
where, — a creature who may suddenly come 
upon him and end his joys of hanging by 
his tail to a tree and make havoc of his 
fruit-eating and chattering, while man thinks 
there is nothing anywhere superior to him- 
self.” 

Gervase smiled tolerantly. 

“ I am afraid I have ruffled you, Princess,” 
he said. “ I see you have religious ideas : 
I have none.” 

Once again she laughed musically. 

“ Religious ideas ! I ! Not at all. I have 
a creed as I told you, but it is an ugly one — 
not at all sentimental or agreeable. It is 
one I have adopted from ancient Egypt.” 


140 


ZISKA 


“ Explain it to me, ” said Gervase ; “ I will 
adopt it also, for your sake.” 

“It is too supernatural for you,” she said, 
paying no heed to the amorous tone of his 
voice or the expressive tenderness of his 
eyes. 

“ Never mind! Love will make me accept 
an army of ghosts, if necessary.” 

“ One of the chief tenets of my faith,” 
she continued, “ is the eternal immortality 
of each individual Soul. Will you accept 
that?” 

“ For the moment, certainly ! ” 

Her eyes glowed like great jewels as she 
proceeded : 

“ The Egyptian cult I follow is very briefly 
explained. The Soul begins in protoplasm 
without conscious individuality. It pro- 
gresses through various forms till individual 
consciousness is attained. Once attained, 
it is never lost, but it lives on, pressing to- 
wards perfection, taking upon itself various 
phases of existence according to the pas- 
sions which have most completely dominated 
it from the first. That is all. But accord- 
ing to this theory, you might have lived in 
the world long ago, and so might I : we might 
even have met ; and for some reason or 
other we may have become re-incarnated 


ZISKA. 


141 

now. A disciple of my creed would give 
you that as the reason why you sometimes 
imagine you have seen me before.” 

As she spoke, the dazed and troubled sen- 
sation he had once previously experienced 
came upon him ; he laid down the canvas he 
held and passed his hand across his forehead 
bewilderedly. 

“Yes; very curious and fantastic. I’ve 
heard a great deal about the doctrine of re- 
incarnation. I don’t believe in it, — I can’t 
believe in it ! But if I could : if I could 
imagine I had ever met you in some bygone 
time, and you were like what you are at this 
moment, I should have loved you, — I must 
have loved you ! You see I cannot leave 
the subject of love alone ; and your re-incar- 
nation idea gives my fancy something to 
work upon. So, beautiful Ziska, if your 
soul ever took the form of a flower, I must 
have been its companion blossom ; if it ever 
paced the forest as a beast of prey, I must 
have been its mate ; if it ever was human 
before, then I must have been its lover! 
Do you like such pretty follies? I will 
talk them by the hour.” 

Here he rose, and with a movement that 
was half fierce and half tender, he knelt 
beside her, taking her hands in his own. 


142 


ZISKA 


“ I love you, Ziska ! I cannot help my- 
self. I am drawn to you by some force 
stronger than my own will ; but you need 
not be afraid of me — not yet ! As I said, I 
can wait. I can endure the mingled torture 
and rapture of this sudden passion and make 
no sign, till my patience tires, and then — 
then I will win you if I die for it ! ” 

He sprang up before she could speak a 
word in answer, and seizing his canvas again, 
exclaimed gayly: 

“ Now for the hues of morning and even- 
ing combined, to paint the radiance of this 
wicked soul of love that so enthralls me ! 
First, the raven-black of midnight for the 
hair, — the lustre of the coldest, brightest 
stars for eyes, — the blush-rose of early dawn 
for lips and cheeks. Ah ! How shall I 
make a real beginning of this marvel ? ” 

“ It will be difficult, I fear,” said Ziska 
slowly, with a faint, cold smile ; “ and still 
more difficult, perchance, will be the end ! ” 


ZISKA 


M3 


CHAPTER VIII. 

The table d’hote at the Gezireh Palace 
Hotel had already begun when Gervase 
entered the dining-room and sat down near 
Lady Fulkeward and Dr. Dean. 

“You have missed the soup,” said her 
ladyship, looking up at him with a sweet 
smile. “ All you artists are alike, — you have 
no idea whatever of time. And how have 
you succeeded with that charming myste- 
rious person, the Princess Ziska? ” 

Gervase kept his gaze steadily fixed on 
the table-cloth. He was extremely pale, 
and had the air of one who has gone through 
some great mental exhaustion. 

“ I have not succeeded as well as I ex- 
pected,” he answered slowly. “ I think my 
hand must have lost its cunning. At any 
rate, whatever the reason may be, Art has 
been defeated by Nature.” 

He crumbled up the piece of bread near 
his plate in small portions with a kind of 
involuntary violence in the action, and Dr. 


144 


ZISKA 


Dean, deliberately drawing out a pair of 
spectacles from their case, adjusted them, 
and surveyed him curiously. 

“ You mean to say that you cannot paint 
the Princess’s picture?” 

Gervase glanced up at him with a half- 
sullen, half-defiant expression. 

“ I don’t say that,” he replied ; “ I can 
paint something — something which you can 
call a picture if you like, — but there is no 
resemblance to the Princess Ziska in it. She 
is beautiful, and I can get nothing of her 
beauty, — I can only get the reflection of a 
face which is not hers.” 

“ How very curious!” exclaimed Lady 
Fulkeward. “ Quite psychological, is it not, 
Doctor? It is almost creepy!” and she 
managed to produce a delicate shudder of 
her white shoulders without cracking the 
blanc de perle enamel. “ It will be some- 
thing fresh for you to study.” 

“ Possibly it will — possibly,” said the Doc- 
tor, still surveying Gervase blandly through 
his round glasses ; “ but it isn’t the first time 
I have heard of painters who unconsciously 
produce other faces than those of their sitters. 
I distinctly remember a case in point. A 
gentleman, famous for his charities and gen- 
eral benevolence, had his portrait painted by 


ZISKA 


145 


a great artist for presentation to the town- 
hall of his native place, and the artist was 
quite unable to avoid making him unto the 
likeness of a villain. It was quite a distress- 
ing affair; the painter was probably more 
distressed than anybody about it, and he 
tried by every possible means in his power 
to impart a truthful and noble aspect to the 
countenance of the man who was known and 
admitted to be a benefactor to his race. But 
it was all in vain : the portrait when finished 
was the portrait of a stranger and a scoundrel. 
The people for whom it was intended de- 
clared they would not have such a libel on 
their generous friend hung up in their town- 
hall. The painter was in despair, and there 
was going to be a general hubbub, when, lo 
and behold the ‘ noble 7 personage himself 
was suddenly arrested for a brutal murder 
committed twelve years back. He was 
found guilty and hanged, and the painter 
kept the portrait that had so remarkably be- 
trayed the murderer’s real nature, as a curi- 
osity ever afterwards.” 

“ Is that a fact?” inquired a man who was 
seated at the other side of the table, and 
who had listened with great interest to the 
story. 

“ A positive fact,” said the Doctor. “ One 
10 


146 


ZISKA 


of those many singular circumstances which 
occur in life, and which are beyond all ex- 
planation. M 

Gervase moved restlessly ; then filling 
for himself a glass of claret, drained it off 
thirstily. 

“ Something of the same kind has hap- 
pened to me,” he said with a hard, mirthless 
laugh, “ for out of the most perfect beauty 
I have only succeeded in presenting an 
atrocity.” 

“ Dear me ! ” exclaimed Lady Fulkeward. 
“ What a disappointing day you must have 
had ! But of course, you will try again ; 
the Princess will surely give you another 
sitting ? ” 

“ Oh, yes ! I shall certainly try again 
and yet again, and ever so many times 
again,” said Gervase, with a kind of angry 
obstinacy in his tone, “ the more so as she has 
told me I will never succeed in painting her.” 

“ She told you that, did she ? ” put in 
Dr. Dean, with an air of lively interest. 

“Yes.” 

Just then the handing round of fresh 
dishes and the clatter of knives and forks 
effectually put a stop to the conversation 
for the time, and Gervase presently glancing 
about him saw that Denzil Murray and his 


ZISKA. 


147 


sister were dining apart at a smaller table 
with young Lord Fulkeward and Ross 
Courtney. Helen was looking her fairest 
and best that evening — her sweet face, 
framed in its angel aureole of bright hair 
had a singular look of pureness and truth 
expressed upon it rare to find in any woman 
beyond her early teens. Unconsciously to 
himself, Gervase sighed as he caught a view 
of her delicate profile, and Lady Fulkeward’s 
sharp ears heard the sound of that sigh. 

“ Isn’t that a charming little party over 
there?” she asked. “ Young people, you 
know ! They always like to be together ! 
That very sweet girl, Miss Murray, was so 
much distressed about her brother to-day, — 
something was the matter with him — a touch 
of fever, I believe, — that she begged me to 
let Fulke dine with them in order to dis- 
tract Mr. Denzil’s mind. Fulke is a dear 
boy, you know — very consoling in his ways, 
though he says so little. Then Mr. Court- 
ney volunteered to join them, and there they 
are. The Chetwynd Lyles are gone to a 
big dinner at the Continental this evening.” 

“The Chetwynd Lyles — let me see. Who 
are they ? ” mused Gervase aloud. “ Do I 
know them ? ” 

“ No, — that is, you have not been for- 


148 


ZISKA 


mally introduced/' said Dr. Dean. “ Sir 
Chetwynd Lyle is the editor and proprietor 
of the London Daily Dial, Lady Chetwynd 
Lyle is his wife, and the two elderly-youth- 
ful ladies who appeared as ‘ Boulogne fish- 
wives ' last night at the ball are his daugh- 
ters." 

“ Cruel man!" exclaimed Lady Fulke- 
ward with a girlish giggle. “ The idea of 
calling those sweet girls, Muriel and Dolly, 
< elderly-youthful ! ' ” 

“ What are they, my dear madam, what 
are they?" demanded the imperturbable 
little savant . “ ‘ Elderly-youthful ' is a very 

convenient expression, and applies perfectly 
to people who refuse to be old and cannot 
possibly be young." 

“ Nonsense ! I will not listen to you!" 
and her ladyship opened her jewelled fan 
and spread it before her eyes to completely 
screen the objectionable Doctor from view. 
“ Don't you know your theories are quite 
out of date ? Nobody is old, — we all utterly 
refuse to be old ! Why," and she shut her 
fan with a sudden jerk, “ I shall have you 
calling me old next." 

“ Never, madam ! " said Dr. Dean gal- 
lantly laying his hand upon his heart. “ Y ou 
are quite an exception to the rule. You 


ZISKA. 


149 


have passed through the furnace of marriage 
and come out unscathed. Time has done 
its worst with you, and now retreats, baffled 
and powerless ; it can touch you no more ! ” 

Whether this was meant as a compliment 
or the reverse it would have been difficult 
to say, but Lady Fulkeward graciously ac- 
cepted it as the choicest flattery, and bowed, 
smiling and gratified. Dinner was now 
drawing to its end, and people were giving 
their orders for coffee to be served to them 
on the terrace and in the gardens, Gervase 
among the rest. The Doctor turned to him. 

“ I should like to see your picture of the 
Princess,” he said, — “ that is if you have no 
objection.” 

“ Not the least in the world,” replied 
Gervase, — “ only it isn’t the Princess, it is 
somebody else.” 

A faint shudder passed over him. The 
Doctor noticed it. 

“ Talking of curious things,” went on that 
irrepressible savant , “ I started hunting for 
a particular scarabeus to-day. I couldn’t 
find it, of course, — it generally takes years to 
find even a trifle that one especially wants. 
But I came across a queer old man in one 
of the curiosity-shops who told me that over 
at Karnak they had just discovered a large 


i5o 


ZISKA 


fresco in one of the tombs describing the 
exploits of the very man whose track Im 
on — Araxes. . . ” 

Gervase started, — he knew not why. 

“ What has Araxes to do with you ? ” he 
demanded. 

“ Oh, nothing ! But the Princess Ziska 
spoke of him as a great warrior in the days 
of Amenhotep, — and she seems to be a great 
Egyptologist, and to know many things of 
which we are ignorant. Then you know 
last night she adopted the costume of a dancer 
of that period, named Ziska-Charmazel. 
Well, now it appears that in one part of this 
fresco the scene depicted is this very Ziska- 
Charmazel dancing before Araxes.” 

Gervase listened with strained attention, — 
his heart beat thickly, as though the Doctor 
were telling him of some horrible circum- 
stance in which he had an active part ; where- 
as he had truly no interest at all in the 
matter, except in so far as events of history 
are more or less interesting to everyone. 

“ Well ? ” he said after a pause. 

“ Well,” echoed Dr. Dean. “ There is 
really nothing more to say beyond that I 
want to find out everything I can concern- 
ing this Araxes, if only for the reason that 
the charming Princess chose to impersonate 


ZISKA 


151 

his lady-love last night. One must amuse 
one's self in one’s own fashion, even in Egypt, 
and this amuses me” 

Gervase rose, feeling in his pocket for his 
cigarette-case. 

“ Come,” he said briefly, “ I will show you 
my picture.” 

He straightened his tall, fine figure and 
walked slowly across the room to the table 
where Denzil Murray sat with his sister and 
friends. 

“ Denzil,” he said, — “ I have made a 
strange portrait of the Princess Ziska, and 
I’m going to show it to Dr. Dean. I should 
like you to see it too. Will you come ? ” 

Denzil looked at him with a dark reproach 
in his eyes. 

“ If you like,” he answered shortly. 

“ I do like ! ” and Gervase laid his hand 
on the young fellow’s shoulder with a kind 
pressure. “ You will find it a piece of curi- 
ous disenchantment, as well as a proof of 
my want of skill. You are all welcome to 
come and look at it except . . here he 
hesitated, — “ except Miss Murray. I think 
— yes, I think it might possibly frighten Miss 
Murray.” 

Helen raised her eyes to his, but said 
nothing. 


152 


ZISKA 


“ Oh, by Jove ! ” murmured Lord Fulke- 
ward, feeling his moustache as usual. “ Then 
don’t you come, Miss Murray. We’ll tell 
you all about it afterwards.” 

“ I have no curiosity on the subject,” she 
said a trifle coldly. “ Denzil, you will find 
me in the drawing-room. I have a letter to 
write home.” 

With a slight salute she left them, Gervase 
watching the disappearance of her graceful 
figure with a tinge of melancholy regret in 
his eyes. 

“ It is evident Mademoiselle Helen does 
not like the Princess Ziska,” he observed. 

“ Oh, well, as to that,” said Fulkeward 
hastily, “ you know you can’t expect women 
to lose their heads about her as men do. 
Beside, there’s something rather strange in 
the Princess’s manner and appearance, and 
perhaps Miss Murray doesn’t take to her 
any more than I do.” 

“ Oh, then you are not one of her lovers ? ” 
queried Dr. Dean smiling. 

“ No ; are you ? ” 

“ I ? Good heavens, my dear young sir, 
I was never in love with a woman in my life ! 
That is, not what you would call in love. At 
the age of sixteen I wrote verses to a mature 
young damsel of forty, — a woman with a 


ZISKA 


153 


remarkably fine figure and plenty of it ; she 
rejected my advances with scorn, and I have 
never loved since ! " 

They all laughed, — even Denzil Murray's 
sullen features cleared for the moment into 
the brightness of a smile. 

“ Where did you paint the Princess's pic- 
ture?" inquired Ross Courtney suddenly. 

“ In her own house," replied Gervase. 
“ But we were not alone, for the fascinating 
fair one had some twenty or more armed 
servants within call." There was a move- 
ment of surprise among his listeners, and he 
went on : “Yes; Madame is very well pro- 
tected, I assure you, — as much so as if she 
were the first favorite in a harern. Come 
now, and see my sketch." 

He led the way to a private sitting-room 
which he had secured for himself in the hotel 
at almost fabulous terms. It was a small 
apartment, but it had the advantage of a 
long French window which opened out into 
the garden. Here, on an easel, was a canvas 
with its back turned towards the spectator. 

“ Sit down," said Gervase abruptly address- 
ing his guests, “ and be prepared for a curi- 
osity unlike anything you have ever seen 
before!" He paused a moment, looking 
steadily at Dr. Dean. “ Perhaps, Doctor, 


// 


154 


ZISKA. 


as you are interested in psychic phenomena, 
you may be able to explain how I got such 
a face on my canvas, for I cannot explain it 
to myself.” 

He slowly turned the canvas round, and, 
scarcely heeding the exclamation of amaze- 
ment that broke simultaneously from all the 
men present, stared at it himself, fascinated 
by a singular magnetism more potent than 
either horror or fear. 


ZISKA 


155 


CHAPTER IX. 

WHAT a strange and awful face it was ! — 
what a thing of distorted passion and pain ! 
What an agony was expressed in every line 
of the features ! — agony in which the traces 
of a divine beauty lingered only to render 
the whole countenance more repellent and 
terrific ! A kind of sentient solemnity, 
mingled with wrath and terror, glared from 
the painted eyes, — the lips, slightly parted 
in a cruel upward curve, seemed about to 
utter a shriek of menace, — the hair, drooping 
in black, thick clusters low on the brow, 
looked wet as with the dews of the rigor 
mortis , — and to add to the mysterious horror 
of the whole conception, the distinct outline 
of a death's-head was seen plainly through 
the rose-brown flesh-tints. There was no 
real resemblance in this horrible picture to 
the radiant and glowing loveliness of the 
Princess Ziska, yet, at the same time, there 
was sufficient dim likeness to make an imag- 
inative person think it might be possible 
for her to assume that appearance in death. 


156 


ZISKA 


Several minutes passed in utter silence,— 
then Lord Fulkeward suddenly rose. 

“ I’m going ! ” he said. “ It’s a beastly 
thing ; it makes me sick ! ” 

“ Grand merci ! ” said Gervase with a 
forced smile. 

“ I really can't help it,” declared the young 
man, turning his back to the picture. “ If I 
am rude, you must excuse it. I'm not very 
strong — my mother will tell you I get put 
out very easily, — and I shall dream of this 
horrid face all night if I don’t give it a wide 
berth.” 

And, without any further remark he 
stepped out through the open window into 
the garden, and walked off. Gervase made 
no comment on his departure ; he turned 
his eyes towards Dr. Dean who, with spec- 
tacles on nose, was staring hard at the picture 
with every sign of the deepest interest. 

“ Well, Doctor,” he said, “ you see it is 
not at all like the Princess.” 

“ Oh, yes it is!” returned the Doctor 
placidly. “ If you could imagine the Prin- 
cess’s face in torture, it would be like her. 
It is the kind of expression she might wear 
if she suddenly met with a violent end.” 

“ But why should I paint her so ? ” 
demanded Gervase. “ She was perfectly 


ZISKA 


157 

tranquil ; and her attitude was most pictur- 
esquely composed. I sketched her as I 
thought I saw her, — how did this tortured 
head come on my canvas ? " 

The Doctor scratched his chin thought- 
fully. It was certainly a problem. He 
stared hard at Gervase, as though searching 
for the clue to the mystery in the handsome 
artist's own face. Then he turned to Denzil 
Murray, who had not stirred or spoken. 

“ What do you think of it, eh, Denzil? ” 
he asked. 

The young man started as from a dream. 

“ I don't know what to think of it." 

“ And you ?" said the Doctor, addressing 
Ross Courtney. 

“ I ? Oh, I am of the same opinion as 
Fulkeward, — I think it is a horrible thing. 
And the curious part of the matter is that 
it is like the Princess Ziska, and yet totally 
unlike. Upon my word, you know, it is a 
very unpleasant picture." 

Dr. Dean got up and paced the room two 
or three times, his brows knitted in a heavy 
frown. Suddenly he stopped in front of 
Gervase. 

“ Tell me," he said, “have you any recol- 
lection of ever having met the Princess 
Ziska before ? " 


158 


ZISKA 


Gervase looked puzzled, then answered 
slowly : 

“ No, I have no actual recollection of the 
kind. At the same time, I admit to you 
that there is something about her which has 
always struck me as being familiar. The 
tone of her voice and the peculiar cadence of 
her laughter particularly affect me in this 
way. Last night when I was dancing with 
her, I wondered whether I had ever come 
across her as a model in one of the studios 
in Paris or Rome.” 

The Doctor listened to him attentively, 
watching him narrowly the while. But he 
shook his head incredulously at the idea 
of the Princess ever having posed as a 
model. 

“ No, no, that won’t do ! ” he said. “ I do 
not believe she was ever in the model busi- 
ness. Think again. You are now a man in 
the prime of life, Monsieur Gervase, but look 
back to your early youth, — the period when 
young men do wild, reckless, and often 
wicked things, — did you ever in that thought- 
less time break a woman’s heart ? 99 

Gervase flushed, and shrugged his 
shoulders. 

“ Pardieu ! I may have done ! Who can 
tell ? But if I did, what would that have to 


ZISKA 


159 


do with this?” and he tapped the picture 
impatiently. 

The Doctor sat down and smacked his 
lips with a peculiar air of enjoyment. 

“ It would have a great deal to do with it,” 
he answered, “ that is, psychologically speak- 
ing. I have known of such cases. We will 
argue the point out systematically thus : — 
Suppose that you, in your boyhood, had 
wronged some woman, and suppose that 
woman had died. You might imagine you 
had got rid of that woman. But if her love 
was very strong and her sense of outrage 
very bitter, I must tell you that you have 
not got rid of her by any means, moreover, 
you never will get rid of her. And why ? 
Because her Soul, like all Souls, is imperish- 
able. Now, putting it as a mere supposition, 
and for the sake of the argument, that you 
feel a certain admiration for the Princess 
Ziska, an admiration which might possibly 
deepen into something more than platonic, 
. . — here Denzil Murray looked up, his 

eyes glowing with an angry pain as he fixed 
them on Gervase, — “ why then the Soul of 
the other woman you once wronged might 
come between you and the face of the new 
attraction and cause you to unconsciously 
paint the tortured look of the injured and 


i6o 


ZISKA 


unforgiving Spirit on the countenance of the 
lovely fascinator whose charms are just be- 
ginning to ensnare you. I repeat, I have 
known of such cases.” And, unheeding the 
amazed and incredulous looks of his listen- 
ers, the little Doctor folded both his short 
arms across his chest, and hugged himself 
in the exquisite delight of his own strange 
theories. “ The fact is,” he continued, “ you 
cannot get rid of ghosts ! They are all about 
us — everywhere ! Sometimes they take 
forms, sometimes they are content to remain 
invisible. But they never fail to make their 
presence felt. Often during the perform- 
ance of some great piece of music they drift 
between the air and the melody, making 
the sounds wilder and more haunting, and 
freezing the blood of the listener with a 
vague agony and chill. Sometimes they 
come between us and our friends, mysteri- 
ously forbidding any further exchange of 
civilities or sympathies, and occasionally they 
meet us alone and walk and talk with us 
invisibly. Generally they mean well, but 
sometimes they mean ill. And the only ex- 
planation I can offer you, Monsieur Gervase, 
as to the present picture problem is that a 
ghost must have come between you and 
your canvas ! ” 


ZISKA 


161 


Gervase laughed loudly. 

“ My good friend, you are an adept in the 
art of pleading the impossible ! You must 
excuse me; I am a sceptic; and I hope I 
am also in possession of my sober reason,— 
therefore, you can hardly wonder at my en- 
tirely refusing to accept such preposterous 
theories as those you appear to believe in.” 

Dr. Dean gave him a civil little bow. 

“ I do not ask you to accept them, my 
dear sir ! I state my facts, and you can take 
them or leave them, just as you please. You 
yourself can offer no explanation of the sin- 
gular way in which this picture has been 
produced ; I offer one which is perfectly 
tenable with the discoveries of psychic 
science, — and you dismiss it as preposterous. 
That being the case, I should recommend 
you to cut up this canvas and try your hand 
again on the same subject.” 

“ Of course, I shall try again,” retorted 
Gervase. “ But I do not think I shall de- 
stroy this first sketch. It is a curiosity in 
its way ; and it has a peculiar fascination for 
me. Do you notice how thoroughly Egyp- 
tian the features are? They are the very 
contour of some of the faces on the recently- 
discovered frescoes.” 

“ Oh, I noticed that at once,” said the 

ii 


ZISKA 


162 

Doctor ; “ but that is not remarkable, seeing 
that you yourself are quite of an Egyptian 
type, though a Frenchman, — so much so, in 
fact, that many people in this hotel have 
commented on it.” 

Gervase said nothing, but slowly turned 
the canvas round with its face to the wall. 

“ You have seen enough of it, I suppose ? ” 
he inquired of Denzil Murray. 

“ More than enough ! ” 

Gervase smiled. 

“ It ought to disenchant you,” he said in 
a lower tone. 

“ But it is a libel on her beauty, — it is 
not in the least like her,” returned Murray 
coldly. 

“Not in the very least? Are you sure ? 
My dear Denzil, you know as well as I do that 
there is a likeness, combined with a dreadful 
unlikeness ; and it is that which troubles both 
of us. I assure you, my good boy, I am as 
sorry for you as I am for myself, — for I feel 
that this woman will be the death of one or 
both of us ! ” 

Denzil made no reply, and presently they 
all strolled out in the garden and lit their 
cigars and cigarettes, with the exception of 
Dr. Dean who never smoked and never drank 
anything stronger than water. 


“ I am going to get up a party for the 
Nile,” he said as he turned his sharp, ferret- 
like eyes upwards to the clear heavens ; “ and 
I shall take the Princess into my confidence. 
In fact, I have written to her about it to-day. 
I hear she has a magnificent electric daha- 
beah, and if she will let us charter it. . . 

“ She won't,” said Denzil hastily, “ unless 
she goes with it herself.” 

“You seem to know a great deal about 
her,” observed Dr. Dean indulgently, “ and 
why should she not go herself ? She is evi- 
dently well instructed in the ancient history 
of Egypt, and, as she reads the hieroglyphs, 
she will be a delightful guide and a most 
valuable assistant to me in my researches.” 

“ What researches are you engaged upon 
now ? ” inquired Courtney. 

“ I am hunting down a man called 
Araxes,” answered the Doctor. “ He lived, 
so far as I can make out, some four or five 
thousand years ago, more or less ; and I want 
to find out what he did and how he died, and 
when I know how he died, then I mean 
to discover where he is buried. If possible, 
I shall excavate him. I also want to find 
the remains of Ziska-Charmazel, the lady 
impersonated by our charming friend the 
Princess last night, — the dancer, who, it 


164 


ZISKA 


appears from a recently-discovered fresco, 
occupied most of her time in dancing before 
this same Araxes and making herself gener- 
ally agreeable to him.” 

“ What an odd fancy ! ” exclaimed Den- 
zil. “ How can a man and woman dead five 
thousand years ago be of any interest to 
you ? ” 

“ What interest has Rameses ? ” demand- 
ed the Doctor politely, 4 or any of the 
Ptolemies ? Araxes, like Rameses, may 
lead to fresh discoveries in Egypt, for all 
we know. One name is as good as another, 
— and each odoriferous mummy has its own 
mystery.” 

They all came just then to a pause in 
their walk, Gervase stopping to light a fresh 
cigarette. The rays of the rising moon fell 
upon him as he stood, a tall and stately fig- 
ure, against a background of palms, and 
shone on his dark features with a touch of 
grayish-green luminance that gave him for 
the moment an almost spectral appearance. 
Dr. Dean glanced at him with a smile. 

“What a figure of an Egyptian, is he 
not ! ” he said to Courtney and Denzil 
Murray. “ Look at him ! What height 
and symmetry ! What a world of ferocity 
in those black, slumbrous eyes ! Yes, Mom 


ZISKA 165 

sieur Gervase, I am talking about you. I 
am admiring you ! ” 

“ Trop d'honneur ! 99 murmured Gervase, 
carefully shielding with one hand the match 
with which he was kindling his cigarette. 

“Yes,” continued the Doctor, “I am ad- 
miring you. Being a little man myself, I 
naturally like tall men, and as an investiga- 
tor of psychic forms I am immensely in- 
terested when I see a finely-made body in 
which the soul lies torpid. That is why you 
unconsciously compose for me a wonderful 
subject of study. I wonder now, how long 
this torpidity in the psychic germ has lasted 
in you ? It commenced, of course, origin- 
ally in protoplasm ; but it must have con- 
tinued through various low forms and met 
with enormous difficulties in attaining to 
individual consciousness as man, — because 
even now it is scarcely conscious.” 

Gervase laughed. 

“ Why, that beginning of the soul in pro- 
toplasm is part of a creed which the Prin- 
cess Ziska was trying to teach me to-day,” 
he said lightly. “ It’s all no use. I don’t 
believe in the soul ; if I did, I should be a 
miserable man.” 

“ Why ? ” asked Murray. 

“ Why ? Because, my dear fellow, I 


1 66 


ZISKA 


should be rather afraid of my future. I 
should not like to live again ; I might have 
to remember certain incidents which I would 
rather forget. There is your charming sister, 
Mademoiselle Helen ! I must go and talk 
to her, — her conversation always does me 
good ; and after that picture which I have 
been unfortunate enough to produce, her 
presence will be as soothing as the freshness 
of morning after an unpleasant nightmare/’ 

He moved away; Denzil Murray with 
Courtney followed him. Dr. Dean remained 
behind, and presently sitting down in a re- 
tired corner of the garden alone, he took 
out a small pocket-book and stylographic 
pen and occupied himself for more than half 
an hour in busily writing till he had covered 
two or three pages with his small, neat calig- 
raphy. 

“ It is the most interesting problem I ever 
had the chance of studying ! ” he murmured 
half aloud when he had finished, “ Of 
course, if my researches into the psychic 
spheres of action are worth anything, it can 
only be one case out of thousands. Thous- 
ands ? Aye, perhaps millions ! Great heav- 
ens ! Among what terrific unseen forces 
we live ! And in exact proportion to every 
man’s arrogant denial of the ‘ Divinity that 


ZISKA 


167 


shapes our ends, so will be measured out to 
him the revelation of the invisible. Strange 
that the human race has never entirely real- 
ized as yet the depth of meaning in the 
words describing hell : ‘ Where the worm 
dieth not, and where the flame is never 
quenched. The ‘ worm * is Retribution, the 
‘ flame ? is the immortal Spirit, — and the two 
are forever striving to escape from the 
other. Horrible ! And yet there are men 
who believe in neither one thing nor the 
other, and reject the Redemption that does 
away with both ! God forgive us all our 
sins, — and especially the sins of pride and 
presumption ! ” 

And with a shade of profound melancholy 
on his features, the little Doctor put by his 
note-book, and, avoiding all the hotel loungers 
on the terrace and elsewhere, retired to his 
own room and went to bed. 


1 68 


ZISKA 


CHAPTER X. 

The next day when Armand Gervase 
went to call on the Princess Ziska he was 
refused admittance. The Nubian attendant 
who kept watch and ward at her gates, hear- 
ing the door-bell ring, contented himself with 
thrusting his ugly head through an open 
upper window and shouting — 

“ Madame est sortie ! ” 

“ Ok done?” called Gervase in answer. 

“ A la camp ague — le desert — les pyra- 
mides!” returned the Nubian, at the same 
time banging the lattice to in order to pre- 
vent the possibility of any further conversa- 
tion. And Gervase, standing in the street 
irresolutely for a moment, fancied he heard 
a peal of malicious laughter in the dis- 
tance. 

“ Beast ! ” he muttered, “ I must try him 
with a money bribe next time I get hold of 
him. I wonder what I shall do with myself 
now ? — haunted and brain-ridden as I am by 
this woman and her picture ? ” 


ZISKA 


169 


The hot sun glared in his eyes and made 
them ache, — the rough stones of the narrow 
street were scorching to his feet. He began 
to move slowly away with a curious faint 
sensation of giddiness and sickness upon 
him, when the sound of music floating from 
the direction of the Princess Ziska’s palace 
brought him to a sudden standstill. It was 
a strange, wild melody, played on some in- 
strument with seemingly muffled strings. A 
voice with a deep, throbbing thrill of sweet- 
ness in it began to sing : 

Oh, for the passionless peace of the Lotus-Lily ! 

It floats in a waking dream on the waters chilly, 
With its leaves unfurled 
To the wondering world, 

Knowing naught of the sorrow and restless pain 

That burns and tortures the human brain ; 

Oh, for the passionless peace of the Lotus-Lily ! 

Oh, for the pure cold heart of the Lotus-Lily ! 

Bared to the moon on the waters dark and chilly. 

A star above 
Is its only love, 

And one brief sigh of its scented breath 

Is all it will ever know of Death ; 

Oh, for the pure cold heart of the Lotus-Lily ! 

When the song ceased, Gervase raised his 
eyes from the ground on which he had fixed 
them in a kind of brooding stupor, and stared 


ZISKA 


170 

at the burning blue of the sky as vaguely 
and wildly as a sick man in the delirium of 
fever. 

“God! What ails me!” he muttered, 
supporting himself with one hand against 
the black and crumbling wall near which he 
stood. “ Why should that melody steal 
away my strength and make me think of 
things with which I have surely no connec- 
tion ! What tricks my imagination plays 
me in this city of the Orient — I might as 
well be hypnotized ! What have I to do 
with dreams of war and triumph and rapine 
and murder, and what is the name of Ziska- 
Charmazel to me?” 

He shook himself with the action of a fine 
brute that has been stung by some teasing 
insect, and, mastering his emotions by an 
effort, walked away. But he was so absorbed 
in strange thoughts, that he stumbled up 
against Denzil Murray in a side street on 
the way to the Gezireh Palace Hotel without 
seeing him, and would have passed him alto- 
gether had not Denzil somewhat fiercely 
said: 

“ Stop ! ” 

Gervase looked at him bewilderedly. 

“ Why, Denzil, is it you ? My dear fel- 
low, forgive me my brusquerie ! I believe I 


ZISKA 


171 

have got a stroke of the sun, or something 
of the sort ; I assure you I hardly know 
what I am doing or where I am going ! ” 

“ I believe it ! 99 said Denzil, hoarsely. 
“ You are as mad as I am — for love ! 99 

Gervase smiled ; a slight incredulous smile. 

“ You think so? I am not sure ! If love 
makes a man as thoroughly unstrung and 
nervous as I am to-day, then love is a very 
bad illness. ,, 

“ It is the worst illness in the world,” said 
Denzil, speaking hurriedly and wildly. 
“ The most cruel and torturing ! And there 
is no cure for it save death. My God, Ger- 
vase ! You were my friend but yesterday ! 
I never should have thought it possible to 
hate you ! ” 

“ Yet you do hate me ? ” queried Gervase, 
still smiling a little. 

“ Hate you? I could kill you! You 
have been with her ! 99 

Quietly Gervase took his arm. 

“ My good Denzil, you are mistaken ! I 
confess to you frankly I should have been 
with her — you mean the Princess Ziska, of 
course — had it been possible. But she has 
fled the city for the moment — at least, ac- 
cording to the corpse-like Nubian who acts 
as porter.” 


172 


ZISKA 


“ He lies ! ” exclaimed Denzil, hotly. “ I 
saw her this morning.” 

“ I hope you improved your opportunity,” 
said Gervase, imperturbably. “ Anyway, at 
the present moment she is not visible.” 

A silence fell between them for some 
minutes ; then Denzil spoke again. 

“ Gervase, it is no use, I cannot stand this 
sort of thing. We must have it out. What 
does it all mean ? ” 

“ It is difficult to explain, my dear boy,” 
answered Gervase, half seriously, half mock- 
ingly. “ It means, I presume, that we are 
both in love with the same woman, and that 
we both intend to try our chances with her. 
But, as I told you the other night, I do not 
see why we should quarrel about it. Your 
intentions towards the Princess are honorable 
— mine are dishonorable, and I shall make 
no secret of them. If you win her, I 
shall . . .” 

He paused, and there was a sudden look 
in his eyes which gave them a sombre dark- 
ness, darker than their own natural color. 

“ You shall — what?” asked Denzil. 

“Do something desperate,” replied Ger- 
vase. “ What the something will be depends 
on the humor of the moment. A tiger 
balked of his prey is not an agreeable beast ; 


ZISKA 


173 


a strong man deprived of the woman he 
passionately desires is a little less agreeable 
even than the tiger. But let us adopt the 
policy of laissez-faire . Nothing is decided ; 
the fair one cares for neither of us; let us be 
friends until she makes her choice.” 

“ We cannot be friends,” said Denzil, 
sternly. 

“ Good ! Let us be foes then, but court- 
eous, even in our quarrel, dear boy. If we 
must kill each other, let us do it civilly. 
To fly at each other's throats would be 
purely barbaric. We owe a certain duty to 
civilization; things have progressed since 
the days of Araxes.” 

Denzil stared at him gloomily. 

“ Araxes is Dr. Dean's fad,” he said. 
“ I don't know anything about Egyptian 
mummies, and don’t want to know. My 
matter is with the present, and not with the 
past.” 

They had reached the hotel by this time, 
and turned into the gardens side by side. 

“You understand?” repeated Denzil. 
“ We cannot be friends ! ” 

Gervase gave him a profoundly courteous 
salute, and the two separated. 

Later on in the afternoon, about an hour 
before dinner-time, Gervase, strolling on the 


174 


ZISKA 


terrace of the hotel alone, saw Helen Murray 
seated at a little distance under some trees, 
with a book in her hand which she was not 
reading. There were tears in her eyes, but 
as he approached her she furtively dashed 
them away and greeted him with a poor 
attempt at a smile. 

“You have a moment to spare me?” he 
asked, sitting down beside her. 

She bent her head in acquiescence. 

“ I am a very unhappy man, Mademoiselle 
Helen,” he began, looking at her with a cer- 
tain compassionate tenderness as he spoke. 
“ I want your sympathy, but I know I do 
not deserve it.” 

Helen remained silent. A faint flush 
crimsoned her cheeks, but her eyes were 
veiled under the long lashes — she thought he 
could not see them. 

“ You remember,” he went on, “ our pleas- 
ant times in Scotland ? Ah, it is a restful 
place, your Highland home, with the beauti- 
ful purple hills rolling away in the distance, 
and the glorious moors covered with fragrant 
heather, and the gurgling of the river that 
runs between birch and fir and willow, making 
music all day long for those who have the 
ears to listen, and the hearts to understand 
the pretty love tune it sings ! You know 


ZISKA 


175 


Frenchmen always have more or less sym- 
pathy with the Scotch — some old association, 
perhaps, with the romantic times of Mary 
Queen of Scots, when the light and change- 
ful fancies of Chastelard and his brother 
poets and lutists made havoc in the hearts 
of many a Highland maiden. What is that 
bright drop on your hand, Helen? — are you 
crying ?” He waited a moment, and his 
voice was softer and more tremulous. “ Dear 
girl, I am not worthy of tears. I am not 
good enough for you.” 

He gave her time to recover her momen- 
tary emotion and then went on, still softly 
and tenderly : 

“ Listen, Helen. I want you to believe 
me and forgive me, if you can. I know — I 
remember those moonlight evenings in Scot- 
land — holy and happy evenings, as sweet as 
flower-scented pages in a young girl's missal ; 
yes, and I did not mean to play with you, 
Helen, or wound your gentle heart. I al- 
most loved you ! ” He spoke the words 
passionately, and for a moment she raised 
her eyes and looked at him in something of 
fear as well as sorrow. Yes,' I said to my 
self, ‘ this woman, so true and pure and fair, 
is a bride for a king ; and if I can win her — 
if ! ’ Ah, there my musings stopped. But 


176 


ZISKA 


I came to Egypt chiefly to meet you again, 
knowing that you and your brother were in 
Cairo. How was I to know, how was I to 
guess that this horrible thing would happen ? ” 

Helen gazed at him wonderingly. 

“ What horrible thing ? ” she asked, falter- 
ingly, the rich color coming and going on 
her face, and her heart beating violently as 
she put the question. 

His eyes flashed. 

“ This,” he answered. “ The close and 
pernicious enthralment of a woman I never 
met till the night before last ; a woman whose 
face haunts me ; a woman who drags me to 
her side with the force of a magnet, there to 
grovel like a brain-sick fool and plead with 
her for a love which I already know is poison 
to my soul! Helen, Helen ! You do not 
understand — you will never understand ! 
Here, in the very air I breathe, I fancy I 
can trace the perfume she shakes from her 
garments as she moves ; something inde- 
scribably fascinating yet terrible attracts me 
to her ; it is an evil attraction, I know, but I 
cannot resist it. There is something wicked 
in every man’s nature ; I am conscious 
enough that there is something detestably 
wicked in mine, and I have not sufficient 
goodness to overbalance it. And this 


ZISKA 


177 


woman, — this silent, gliding, glittering-eyed 
creature that has suddenly taken possession 
of my fancy — she overcomes me in spite of 
myself ; she makes havoc of all the good in- 
tentions of my life. I admit it — I confess it ! ” 

“ You are speaking of the Princess Ziska ? ” 
asked Helen, tremblingly. 

“Of whom else should I speak ?” he re- 
sponded, dreamily. “ There is no one like 
her ; probably there never was anyone like 
her, except, perhaps, Ziska-Charmazel ! ” 

As the name passed his lips, he sprang 
hastily up and stood amazed, as though some 
sudden voice had called him. Helen Murray 
looked at him in alarm. 

“ Oh, what is it ? ” she exclaimed. 

He forced a laugh. 

“ Nothing — nothing — but a madness! I 
suppose it is all a part of my strange malady. 
Your brother is stricken with the same fever. 
Surely you know that ? ” 

“ Indeed I do know it,” Helen answered, 
“ to my sorrow ! ” 

He regarded her intently. Her face in its 
pure outline and quiet sadness of expression 
touched him more than he cared to own 
even to himself. 

“ My dear Helen,” he said, with an effort 
at composure, “ I have been talking wildly ; 

12 


178 


ZISKA 


you must forgive me! Don't think about 
me at all ; I am not worth it ! Denzil has 
taken it into his head to quarrel with me on 
account of the Princess Ziska, but I assure 
you I will not quarrel with him. He is in- 
fatuated, and so am I. The best thing for 
all of us to do would be to leave Egypt in- 
stantly ; I feel that instinctively, only we 
cannot do it. Something holds us here. 
You will never persuade Denzil to go, and I 
— I cannot persuade myself to go. There 
is a clinging sweetness in the air for me ; 
and there are vague suggestions, memories, 
dreams, histories — wonderful things which 
hold me spell-bound ! I wish I could analyze 
them, recognize them, or understand them. 
But I cannot, and there, perhaps, is their 
secret charm. Only one thing grieves me, 
and that is, that I have, perhaps, unwittingly, 
in some thoughtless way, given you pain ; is 
it so, Helen?’' 

She rose quickly, and with a quiet dignity 
held out her hand. 

“ No, Monsieur Gervase, " she said, “ it is 
not so. I am not one of those women who 
take every little idle word said by men in 
jest au grand serieux ! You have always 
been a kind and courteous friend, and if you 
ever fancied you had a warmer feeling for 


ZISKA 


179 


me, as you say, I am sure you were mistaken. 
We often delude ourselves in these matters. 
I wish, for your sake, I could think the Prin- 
cess Ziska worthy of the love she so readily 
inspires. But, — I cannot ! My brother’s 
infatuation for her is to me terrible. I feel 
it will break his heart, — and mine ! ” A 
little half sob caught her breath and inter- 
rupted her ; she paused, but presently went 
on with an effort at calmness: “You talk of 
our leaving Egypt ; how I wish that were 
possible ! But I spoke to Denzil about it 
on the night of the ball, and he was furious 
with me for the mere suggestion. It seems 
like an evil fate.” 

“ It is an evil fate,” said Gervase gloomily. 
“ Enfin, my dear Helen, we cannot escape 
from it, — at least, I cannot. But I never 
was intended for good things, not even for a 
lasting love. A lasting love I feel would 
bore me. You look amazed ; you believe 
in lasting love ? So do many sweet women. 
But do you know what symbol I, as an ar- 
tist, would employ were I asked to give my 
idea of Love on my canvas? ” 

Helen smiled sadly and shook her head. 

“ I would paint a glowing flame,” said 
Gervase dreamily. “ A flame leaping up 
from the pit of hell to the height of heaven, 


180 ZISKA 

springing in darkness, lost in light ; and flying 
into the centre of that flame should be a 
white moth — a blind, soft, mad thing with 
beating, tremulous wings, — that should be 
Love ! Whirled into the very heart of the 
ravening fire, — crushed, shrivelled out of 
existence in one wild, rushing rapture — that 
is what Love must be to me ! One cannot 
prolong passion over fifty years, more or 
less, of commonplace routine, as marriage 
would have us do. The very notion is ab- 
surd. Love is like a choice wine of exqui- 
site bouquet and intoxicating flavor ; it is 
the most maddening draught in the world, 
but you cannot drink it everyday. No, my 
dear Helen ; I am not made for a quiet life, 
— nor for a long one, I fancy.” 

His voice unconsciously sank into a mel- 
ancholy tone, and for one moment Helen’s 
composure nearly gave way. She loved 
him as true women love, with that sublime 
self-sacrifice which only desires the happiness 
of the thing beloved ; yet a kind of insen- 
sate rage stirred for once in her gentle soul 
to think that the mere sight of a strange 
woman with dark eyes, — a woman whom no 
one knew anything about, and who was by 
some people deemed a mere adventuress, — 
should have so overwhelmed this man whose 


ZISKA 


1 8 1 


genius she had deemed superior to fleeting 
impressions. Controlling the tears that rose 
to her eyes and threatened to fall, she said 
gently, 

“ Good-bye, Monsieur Gervase ! ” 

He started as from a reverie. 

“ Good-bye, Helen ! Some day you will 
think kindly of me again ? ” 

“ I think kindly of you now,” she answered 
tremulously ; then, not trusting herself to 
say any more, she turned swiftly and left him. 

“The flame and the moth ! ” he mused, 
watching her slight figure till it had dis- 
appeared. “Yes, it is the only fitting sym- 
bol. Love must be always so. Sudden, 
impetuous, ungovernable, and then — the 
end ! To stretch out the divine passion over 
life-long breakfasts and dinners ! It would 
be intolerable to me. Lord Fulkeward could 
do that sort of thing ; his chest is narrow, 
and his sentiments are as limited as his chest. 
He would duly kiss his wife every morning 
and evening, and he would not analyze the 
fact that no special thrill of joy stirred in 
him at the action. What should he do with 
thrills of joy — this poor Fulkeward? And 
yet it is likely he will marry Helen. Or will 
it be the Courtney animal, — the type of man 
whose one idea is ‘ to arise, kill, and eat ? * ” 


ZISICA 


182 

Ah, well ! ” and he sighed. “ She is not for 
me, this maiden grace of womanhood. If I 
married her, I should make her miserable. I 
am made for passion, not for peace. ” 

He started as he heard a step behind him, 
and turning, saw Dr. Dean. The worthy 
little savant looked worried and preoccupied. 

“ I have had a letter from the Princess 
Ziska,” he said, without any preliminary. 
“ She has gone to secures rooms at the Mena 
House Hotel, which is situated close to the 
Pyramids. She regrets she cannot enter into 
the idea of taking a trip up the Nile. She 
has no time, she says, as she is soon leaving 
Cairo. But she suggests that we should 
make up a party for the Mena House while 
she is staying there, as she can, so she tells 
me, make the Pyramids much more interest- 
ing for us by her intimate knowledge of them. 
Now, to me this is a very tempting offer, 
but I should not care to go alone.” 

“ The Murrays will go, I am sure,” mur- 
mured Gervase lazily. “ At any rate, Denzil 
will.” 

The Doctor looked at him narrowly. 

“ If Denzil goes, so will you go,” he said. 
“ Thus there are two already booked for 
company. And I fancy the Fulkewards 
might like the idea.” 


ZISKA 


183 


“ The Princess is leaving Cairo ? ” queried 
Gervase presently, as though it were an 
after thought. 

“ So she informs me in her letter. The 
party which is to come off on Wednesday 
night is her last reception.” 

Gervase was silent a moment. Then he 
said : 

“ Have you told Denzil? ” 

“ Not yet.” 

“ Better do so then,” and Gervase glanced 
up at the sky, now glowing red with a fiery 
sunset. “ He wants to propose, you know.” 

“ Good God ! ” cried the Doctor, sharply, 
“ If he proposes to that woman. . . .” 

“ Why should he not ? ” demanded Ger- 
vase. “ Is she not as ripe for love and fit for 
marriage as any other of her sex?” 

“ Her sex ! ” echoed the Doctor grimly. 
“ Her sex! — There! — for heaven's sake 
don't talk to me ! — leave me alone ! The 
Princess Ziska is like no woman living ; she 
has none of the sentiments of a woman, — 
and the notion of Denzil's being such a fool 
as to think of proposing to her — Oh, leave 
me alone, I tell you ! Let me worry this 
out ! ” 

And clapping his hat well down over his 
eyes, he began to walk away in a strange 


ZISKA 


I84 

condition of excitement, which he evidently 
had some difficulty in suppressing. Sud- 
denly, however, he turned, came back and 
tapped Gervase smartly on the chest. 

“ You are the man for the Princess,” he 
said impressively. “ There is a madness in 
you which you call love for her; you are her 
fitting mate, not that poor boy, Denzil Mur- 
ray. In certain men and women spirit leaps 
to spirit, — note responds to note — and if all 
the world were to interpose its trumpery 
bulk, nothing could prevent such tumultuous 
forces rushing together. Follow your des- 
tiny, Monsieur Gervase, but do not ruin 
another man's life on the way. Follow your 
destiny, — complete it, — you are bound to do 
so, — but in the havoc and wildness to come, 
for God's sake, let the innocent go free ! " 

He spoke with extraordinary solemnity, 
and Gervase stared at him in utter bewilder- 
ment and perplexity, not understanding in 
the least what he meant. But before he 
could interpose a word or ask a question, 
Dr. Dean had gone. 


ZISKA 


i»5 


CHAPTER XI. 

The next two or three days passed without 
any incident of interest occurring to move the 
languid calm and excite the fleeting interest 
of the fashionable English and European 
visitors who were congregated at the Gezireh 
Palace Hotel. The anxious flirtations of 
Dolly and Muriel Chetwynd Lyle afforded 
subjects of mirth to the profane, — the 
wonderfully youthful toilettes of Lady 
Fulkeward provided several keynotes from 
which to strike frivolous conversation, — and 
when the great painter, Armand Gervase, 
actually made a sketch of her ladyship for 
his own amusement, and made her look 
about sixteen, and girlish at that, his popu- 
larity knew no bounds. Everyone wanted 
to give him a commission, particularly the 
elderly fair, and he could have made a fortune 
had he chosen, after the example set him by 
the English academicians, by painting the 
portraits of ugly nobodies who were ready to 
pay any price to be turned out as handsome 




ZISKA 


1 86 

somebodies. But he was too restless and 
ill at ease to apply himself steadily to work, 
- — the glowing skies of Egypt, the picturesque 
groups of natives to be seen at every turn, 
— the curious corners of old Cairo — these 
made no impression upon his mind at all, 
and when he was alone, he passed whole 
half hours staring at the strange picture he 
had made of the Princess Ziska, wherein the 
face of death seemed confronting him through 
a mask of life. And he welcomed with a 
strong sense of relief and expectation the 
long-looked-for evening of the Princess’s 
“reception,” to which many of the visitors 
in Cairo had been invited since a fortnight, 
and which those persons who always profess 
to be “ in the know,” even if they are wallow- 
ing in ignorance, declared would surpass any 
entertainment ever given during the Cairene 
season. 

The night came at last. It was exceed- 
ingly sultry, but bright and clear, and the 
moon shone with effective brilliance on the 
gayly-attired groups of people that between 
nine and ten o’clock began to throng the 
narrow street in which the carved tomb-like 
portal of the Princess Ziska’s residence was 
the most conspicuous object. Lady Chet- 
wynd Lyle, remarkable for bad taste in her 


ZISKA 


187 


dress and the disposal of her diamonds, stared 
in haughty amazement at the Nubian, who 
saluted her and her daughters with the grin 
peculiar to his uninviting cast of countenance, 
and swept into the courtyard attended by 
her husband with an air as though she im- 
agined her presence gave the necessary flavor 
of “ good style ” to the proceedings. She 
was followed by Lady Fulkeward, innocently 
clad in white and wearing a knot of lilies on 
her prettily-enamelled left shoulder, Lord 
Fulkeward, Denzil Murray and his sister. 
Helen also wore white, but though she 
was in the twenties and Lady Fulkeward 
was in the sixties, the girl had so much sad- 
ness in her face and so much tragedy in her 
soft eyes that she looked, if anything, older 
than the old woman. Gervase and Dr. Dean 
arrived together, and found themselves in 
a brilliant, crushing crowd of people, all of 
different nationalities and all manifesting a 
good deal of impatience because they were 
delayed a few minutes in an open court, 
where a couple of stone lions with wings 
were the only spectators of their costumes. 

“ Most singular behavior ! ” said Lady 
Chetwynd Lyle, snorting and sniffing, “ to 
keep us waiting outside like this ! The 
Princess has no idea of European manners ! ” 


ZISKA 


1 88 

As she spoke, a sudden blaze of light 
flamed on the scene, and twenty tall Egyptian 
servants in white, with red turbans, carrying 
lighted torches and marching two by two 
crossed the court, and by mute yet stately 
gestures invited the company to follow. 
And the company did follow in haste, with 
scramble and rudeness, as is the way of 
“ European manners ” nowadays ; and pres- 
ently, having been relieved of their cloaks and 
wrappings, stood startled and confounded 
in a huge hall richly adorned with silk and 
cloth of gold hangings, where, between two 
bronze sphinxes, the Princess Ziska, attired 
wonderfully in a dim, pale rose color, with 
flecks of jewels flashing from her draperies 
here and there, waited to receive her guests. 
Like a queen she stood, — behind her tow- 
ered a giant palm, and at her feet were 
strewn roses and lotus-lilies. On either side 
of her, seated on the ground, were young 
girls gorgeously clad and veiled to the eyes 
in the Egyptian fashion, and as the staring, 
heated and impetuous swarm of “ travelling ” 
English and Americans came face to face 
with her in her marvellous beauty, they were 
for the moment stricken spellbound, and could 
scarcely summon up the necessary assurance 
to advance and take the hand she out- 


ZISKA 


189 


stretched to them in welcome. She appeared 
not to see the general embarrassment, and 
greeted all who approached her with court- 
eous ease and composure, speaking the few 
words which every graceful hostess deems 
adequate before “ passing on ” her visitors. 
And presently music began, — music wild and 
fantastic, of a character unknown to modern 
fashionable ears, yet strangely familiar to 
Armand Gervase, who started at the first 
sound of it, and seemed enthralled. 

“ That is not an ordinary orchestra/’ said 
Dr. Dean in his ear. “ The instruments are 
ancient, and the form of melody is barbaric.” 

Gervase answered nothing, for the Princess 
Ziska just then approached them. 

“ Come into the Red Saloon,” she said. 
“ I am persuading my guests to pass on there. 
I have an old bas-relief on the walls which I 
would like you to see, — you, especially, Dr. 
Dean ! — for you are so learned in antiquities. 
I hear you are trying to discover traces of 
Araxes ? ” 

“ I am,” replied the Doctor. “You in- 
terested me very much in his history.” 

“ He was a great man,” said the Princess, 
slowly piloting them as she spoke, without 
hurry and with careful courtesy, through the 
serried ranks of the now freely chattering and 


ZISKA 


I90 

animated company. “ Much greater than 
any of your modern heroes. But he had 
two faults ; faults which frequently accom- 
pany the plentitude of power, — cruelty and 
selfishness. He betrayed and murdered the 
only woman that ever loved him, Ziska- 
Charmazel.” 

“ Murdered her ! ” exclaimed Dr. Dean. 
“ How? ” 

“ Oh, it is only a legend ! ” and the Prin- 
cess smiled, turning her dark eyes with a be- 
witching languor on Gervase, who, for some 
reason or other which he could not explain, 
felt as if he were walking in a dream on the 
edge of a deep chasm of nothingness, into 
which he must presently sink to utter de- 
struction. “ All these old histories happened 
so long ago that they are nothing but myths 
now to the present generation.” 

“ Time does not rob any incident of its 
interest to me,” said Dr. Dean. “ Ages 
hence Queen Victoria will be as much a 
doubtful potentate as King Lud. To the 
wise student of things there is no time and 
no distance. All history from the very be- 
ginning is like a wonderful chain in which 
no link is ever really broken, and in which 
every part fits closely to the other part, — 
though why the chain should exist at all is 


ZISKA 


I 9 I 

a mystery we cannot solve. Yet I am quite 
certain that even our late friend Araxes has 
his connection with the present, if only for 
the reason that he lived in the past.” 

“ How do you argue out that theory ! ” 
asked Gervase with sudden interest. 

“ How do you argue it ? The question is, 
how can you argue at all about anything 
that is so plain and demonstrated a fact ? 
The doctrine of evolution proves it. Every- 
thing that we were once has its part in us 
now. Suppose, if you like, that we were 
originally no more than shells on the shore, 
— some remnant of the nature of the shell 
must be in us at this moment. Nothing 
is lost, — nothing is wasted, — not even a 
thought. I carry my theories very far,” 
pursued the Doctor, looking keenly from 
one to the other of his silent companions as 
they walked beside him through a long cor- 
ridor towards the Red Saloon, which could 
be seen, brilliantly lit up and thronged with 
people. “ Very far indeed, especially in 
regard to matters of love. I maintain that if 
it is decreed that the soul of a man and the 
soul of a woman must meet, — must rush 
together, — not all the forces of the uni- 
verse can hinder them ; aye, even if they 
were, for some conventional cause or cir- 


192 


ZISKA 


cumstance themselves reluctant to consum- 
mate their destiny, it would nevertheless, 
despite them, be consummated. For mark 
you, — in some form or other they have 
rushed together before ! Whether as flames 
in the air, or twining leaves on a tree, or 
flowers in a field, they have felt the sweet- 
ness and fitness of each other's being in former 
lives, — and the craving sense of that sweet- 
ness and fitness can never be done away with, 
— never ! Not as long as this present universe 
lasts ! It is a terrible thing," continued the 
Doctor in a lower tone, “ a terrible fatality, — 
the desire of love. In some cases it is a curse ; 
in others, a divine and priceless blessing. 
The results depend entirely on the tempera- 
ments of the human creatures possessed by 
its fever. When it kindles, rises and burns 
towards Heaven in a steady flame of ever- 
brightening purity and faith, then it makes 
marriage the most perfect union on earth, 
— the sweetest and most blessed companion- 
ship ; but when it is a mere gust of fire, 
bright and fierce as the sudden leaping light 
of a volcano, then it withers everything at a 
touch, — faith, honor, truth, — and dies into 
dull ashes in which no spark remains to 
warm or inspire man's higher nature. Bet- 
ter death than such a love, — for it works 


ZISKA I93 

misery on earth ; but who can tell what hor- 
rors it may not create Hereafter ! ” 

The Princess looked at him with a strange, 
weird gleam in her dark eyes. 

“ You are right,” she said. “ It is just the 
Hereafter that men never think of. I am 
glad you, at least, acknowledge the truth of 
the life beyond death.” 

“ I am bound to acknowledge it,” returned 
the Doctor ; “ inasmuch as I know it 
exists.” 

Gervase glanced at him with a smile, in 
which there was something of contempt. 

“ You are very much behind the age, 
Doctor,” he remarked lightly. 

“ Very much behind indeed,” agreed Dr. 
Dean composedly. “ The age rushes on too 
rapidly for me, and gives no time to the con- 
sideration of things by the way. I stop, — 
I take breathing space in which to think ; 
life without thought is madness, and I desire 
to have no part in a mad age.” 

At that moment they entered the Red 
Saloon, a stately apartment, which was 
entirely modelled after the most ancient 
forms of Egyptian architecture. The centre 
of the vast room was quite clear of furniture, 
so that the Princess Ziska’s guests went 
wandering up and down, to and fro, entirely 
!3 


1 


194 


ZISKA 


at their ease, without crush or inconveni- 
ence, and congregated in corners for conver- 
sation ; though if they chose they could re- 
cline on low divans and gorgeously-cush- 
ioned benches ranged against the walls and 
sheltered by tall palms and flowering exo- 
tics. The music was heard to better advan- 
tage here than in the hall where the com- 
pany had first been received ; and as the 
Princess moved to a seat under the pale 
green frondage of a huge tropical fern and 
bade her two companions sit beside her, 
sounds of the wildest, most melancholy and 
haunting character began to palpitate upon 
the air in the mournful, throbbing fashion 
in which a nightingale sings when its soul 
is burdened with love. The passionate tre- 
mor that shakes the bird’s throat at mating- 
time seemed to shake the unseen instru- 
ments that now discoursed strange melody, 
and Gervase, listening dreamily, felt a curi- 
ous contraction and aching at his heart and 
a sense of suffocation in his throat, combined 
with an insatiate desire to seize in his arms 
the mysterious Ziska, with her dark fathom- 
less eyes and slight, yet voluptuous, form, — 
to drag her to his breast and crush her there, 
whispering : 

“ Mine ! — mine ! By all the gods of the 


ZISKA. 


195 


past and present — mine ! Who shall tear 
her from me, — who dispute my right to love 
her — ruin her — murder her, if I choose ? She 
is mine ! ” 

“ The bas-relief I told you of is just above 
us,” said the Princess then, addressing her- 
self to the Doctor ; “ would you like to ex- 
amine it ? One of the servants shall bring 
you a lighted taper, and by passing it in 
front of the sculpture you will be able to see 
the design better. Ah, Mr. Murray ! ” and 
she smiled as she greeted Denzil, who just 
then approached. “You are in time to give 
us your opinion. I want Dr. Dean to see 
that very old piece of stone carving on the 
wall above us, — it will serve as a link for him 
in the history of Araxes.” 

“ Indeed ! ” murmured Denzil, somewhat 
abstractedly. 

The Princess glanced at his brooding face 
and laughed. 

“ You, I know, are not interested at all in 
old history,” she went on. “ The past has 
no attraction for you.” 

“ No. The present is enough,” he replied, 
with a glance of mingled hope and passion. 

She smiled, and signing to one of her 
Egyptian attendants, bade him bring a 
lighted taper. He did so, and passed it 


196 


ZISKA 


slowly up and down and to the right and left 
of the large piece of ancient sculpture that 
occupied more than half the wall, while Dr. 
Dean stood by, spectacles on nose, to ex- 
amine the carving as closely as possible. 
Several other people, attracted by what was 
going on, paused to look also, and the Prin- 
cess undertook to explain the scene depicted. 

“ This piece of carving is of the date of the 
King Amenhotep or Amenophis III., of the 
Eighteenth Dynasty. It represents the re- 
turn of the warrior Araxes, a favorite servant 
of the king's, after some brilliant victory. 
You see, there is the triumphal car in which 
he rides, drawn by winged horses, and behind 
him are the solar deities — Ra, Sikar, Tmu, 
and Osiris. He is supposed to be approach- 
ing his palace in triumph ; the gates are 
thrown open to receive him, and coming out 
to meet him is the chief favorite of his harem, 
the celebrated dancer of that period — Ziska- 
Charmazel.” 

“ Whom he afterwards murdered, you 
say ? ” queried Dr. Dean meditatively. 

“Yes. He murdered her simply because 
she loved him too well and was in the way 
of his ambition. There was nothing aston- 
ishing in his behavior, not even if you con- 
sider it in the light of modern times. Men 


ZISKA I97 

always murder — morally, if not physically — * 
the women who love them too well.” 

“You truly think that?” asked Denzil 
Murray in a low tone. 

“ I not only truly think it, I truly know it ! ” 
she answered, with a disdainful flash of her 
eyes. “ Of course, I speak of strong men 
with strong passions ; they are the only kind 
of men women ever worship. Of course, a 
weak, good-natured man is different ; he 
would probably not harm a woman for the 
world, or give her the least cause for pain if 
he could help it, but that sort of man never 
becomes either an adept or a master in love. 
Araxes was probably both. No doubt he 
considered he had a perfect right to slay 
what he had grown weary of ; he thought 
no more than men of his type think to-day, 
that the taking of a life demands a life in 
exchange, if not in this world, then in the 
next.” 

The group of people near her were all 
silent, gazing with an odd fascination at the 
quaint and ancient-sculptured figures above 
them, when all at once Dr. Dean, taking the 
taper from the hands of the Egyptian servant, 
held the flame close to the features of the 
warrior riding in the car of triumph, and said 
slowly : 


198 


ZISKA 


“ Do you not see a curious resemblance, 
Princess, between this Araxes and a friend 
of ours here present? Monsieur Armand 
Gervase, will you kindly step forward ? Yes, 
that will do, turn your head slightly, — so ! 
Yes! Now observe the outline of the fea- 
tures of Araxes as carven in this sculpture 
thousands of years ago, and compare it with 
the outline of the features of our celebrated 
friend, the greatest French artist of his day. 
Am I the only one who perceives the re- 
markable similarity of contour and expres- 

• it 

sion r 

The Princess made no reply. A smile 
crossed her lips, but no word escaped them. 
Several persons, however, pressed eagerly 
forward to look at and comment upon what 
was indeed a startling likeness. The same 
straight, fierce brows, the same proud, firm 
mouth, the same almond-shaped eyes were, 
as it seemed, copied from the ancient entab- 
lature and repeated in flesh and blood in the 
features of Gervase. Even Denzil Murray, 
absorbed though he was in conflicting 
thoughts of his own, was struck by the co- 
incidence. 

“ It is really very remarkable ! ” he said. 
“ Allowing for the peculiar style of drawing 
and design common to ancient Egypt, the 


ZISKA 199 

portrait of Araxes might pass for Gervase in 
Egyptian costume/' 

Gervase himself was silent. Some myste- 
rious emotion held him mute, and he was 
only aware of a vague irritation that fretted 
him without any seemingly adequate cause. 
Dr. Dean meanwhile pursued his investiga- 
tions with the lighted taper, and presently, 
turning round on the assembled little group 
of bystanders, he said : 

“ I have just discovered another singular 
thing. The face of the woman here — the 
dancer and favorite — is the face of our 
charming hostess, the Princess Ziska ! ” 

Exclamations of wonder greeted this an- 
nouncement, and everybody craned their 
necks to see. And then the Princess spoke, 
slowly and languidly. 

“ Yes," she murmured, “ I was hoping you 
would perceive that. I myself noticed how 
very like me is the famous Ziska-Charmazel, 
and that is just why I dressed in her fashion 
for the fancy ball the other evening. It 
seemed to me the best thing to do, as I 
wanted to choose an ancient period, and 
then, you know, I bear half her name.’' 

Dr. Dean looked at her keenly, and a 
somewhat grim smile wrinkled his lips. 

“You could not have done better," he 


200 


ZISKA 


declared. “You and the dancing-girl of 
Araxes might be twin sisters.” 

He lowered the taper he held that it might 
more strongly illumine her face, and as the 
outline of her head and throat and bust was 
thrown into full relief, Gervase, staring at 
her, was again conscious of that sudden, 
painful emotion of familiarity which had 
before overwhelmed him, and he felt that 
in all the world he had no such intimate 
knowledge of any woman as he had of Ziska. 
He knew her ! Ah ! — how did he not know 
her? Every curve of that pliant form was 
to him the living memory of something once 
possessed and loved, and he pressed his hand 
heavily across his eyes for a moment to shut 
out the sight of all the exquisite voluptuous 
grace which shook his self-control and 
tempted him almost beyond man’s mortal 
endurance. 

“Are you not well, Monsieur Gervase ? ” 
said Dr. Dean, observing him closely, and 
handing back the lighted taper to the Egyp- 
tian servant who waited to receive it. “ The 
portraits on this old carving have perhaps 
affected you unpleasantly? Yet there is 
really nothing of importance in such a coin- 
cidence.” 

“ Nothing of importance, perhaps, but 


ZISKA 


201 


surely something of singularity/' interrupted 
Denzil Murray, “ especially in the resem- 
blance between the Princess and the dancing- 
girl of that ancient period, — their features 
are positively line for line alike." 

The Princess laughed. 

“Yes, is it not curious?" she said, and, 
taking the taper from her servant, she sprang 
lightly on one of the benches near the wall 
and leaned her beautiful head on the en- 
tablature, so that her profile stood out close 
against that of the once reputed Ziska-Char- 
mazel. “We are, as Dr. Dean says, twins ! " 

Several of the guests had now gathered 
together in that particular part of the room, 
and they all looked up at her as she stood 
thus, in silent and somewhat superstitious 
wonderment. The fascinating dancer, famed 
in ages past, and the lovely, living charme - 
resse of the present were the image of each 
other, and so extraordinary was the resem- 
blance that it was almost what some folks 
would term “ uncanny." The fair Ziska did 
not, however, give her acquaintances time 
for much meditation or surprise concerning 
the matter, for she soon came down from 
her elevation near the sculptured frieze 
and, extinguishing the taper she held, she 
said lightly : 


202 


ZISKA 


“ As Dr. Dean has remarked, there is 
really nothing of importance in the coinci- 
dence. Ages ago, in the time of Araxes, 
roses must have bloomed ; and who shall 
say that a rose in to-day’s garden is not pre- 
cisely the same in size, scent and color as one 
that Araxes himself plucked at his palace 
gates? Thus, if flowers are born alike in 
different ages, why not women and men ? ” 

“Very well argued, Princess,” said the 
Doctor. “I quite agree with you. Nature 
is bound to repeat some of her choicest 
patterns, lest she should forget the art of 
making them.” 

There was now a general movement among 
the guests, that particular kind of move- 
ment which means irritability and restless- 
ness, and implies that either supper must 
be immediately served, or else some novel 
entertainment be brought in to distract at- 
tention and prevent tedium. The Princess, 
turning to Gervase, said smilingly : 

“ Apropos of the dancing-girl of Araxes 
and the art of dancing generally, I am going 
to entertain the company presently by 
letting them see a real old dance of Thebes. 
If you will excuse me a moment I must just 
prepare them and get the rooms slightly 
cleared. I will return to you presently.” 


ZISKA 


203 


She glided away with her usual noiseless 
grace, and within a few minutes of her de- 
parture the gay crowds began to fall back 
against the walls and disperse themselves 
generally in expectant groups here and there, 
the Egyptian servants moving in and out 
and evidently informing them of the enter- 
tainment in prospect. 

“Well, I shall stay here,” said Dr. Dean, 
“ underneath this remarkable stone carving 
of your warrior-prototype, Monsieur Gervase. 
You seem very much abstracted. I asked 
you before if you were not well ; but you 
never answered me.” 

“ I am perfectly well,” replied Gervase, 
with some irritation. “ The heat is rather 
trying, that is all. But I attach no impor- 
tance to that stone frieze. One can easily 
imagine likenesses where there are really 
none.” 

“True!” and the Doctor smiled to him- 
self, and said no more. Just then a wild 
burst of music sounded suddenly through 
the apartment, and he turned round in lively 
anticipation to watch the proceedings. 

The middle of the room was now quite 
clear, and presently, moving with the silent 
grace of swans on still water, came four girls 
closely veiled, carrying quaintly-shaped harps 


204 


ZISKA 


and lutes. A Nubian servant followed them, 
and spread a gold-embroidered carpet upon 
the ground, whereon they all sat down and 
began to thrum the strings of their instru- 
ments in a muffled, dreamy manner, playing 
a music which had nothing of melody in it, 
and which yet vaguely suggested a passion- 
ate tune. This thrumming went on for some 
time when all at once from a side entrance 
in the hall a bright, apparently winged thing 
bounded from the outer darkness into the 
centre of the hall, — a woman clad in glisten- 
ing cloth of gold and veiled entirely in misty 
folds of white, who, raising her arms gleam- 
ing with jewelled bangles high above her 
head, remained poised on tiptoe for a 
moment, as though about to fly. Her bare 
feet, white and dimpled, sparkled with gems 
and glittering anklets ; her skirts as she 
moved showed fluttering flecks of white and 
pink like the leaves of May-blossoms shaken 
by a summer breeze ; the music grew louder 
and wilder, and a brazen clang from unseen 
cymbals prepared her as it seemed for flight. 
She began her dance slowly, gliding myste- 
riously from side to side, anon turning sud- 
denly with her head lifted, as though listening 
for some word of love which should recall her 
or command ; then, bending down again, she 


ZISKA 


205 


semed to float lazily like a creature that was 
dancing in a dream without conscious knowl- 
edge of her actions. The brazen cymbals 
clashed again, and then, with a wild, beauti- 
ful movement, like that of a hunted stag 
leaping the brow of a hill, the dancer sprang 
forward, turned, pirouetted and tossed her- 
self round and round giddily with a marvel- 
lous and exquisite celerity, as if she were 
nothing but a bright circle of gold spinning 
in clear ether. Spontaneous applause broke 
forth from every part of the hall ; the guests 
crowded forward, staring and almost breath- 
less with amazement. Dr. Dean got up in 
a state of the greatest excitement, clapping 
his hands involuntarily ; and Gervase, every 
nerve in his body quivering, advanced one 
or two steps, feeling that he must stop this 
bright, wild, wanton thing in her incessant 
whirling, or else die in the hunger of love 
which consumed his soul. Denzil Murray 
glanced at him, and, after a pause, left his 
side and disappeared. Suddenly, with a 
quick movement, the dancer loosened her 
golden dress and misty veil, and tossing 
them aside like falling leaves, she stood con- 
fessed — a marvellous, glowing vision in sil- 
very white — no other than the Princess 
Ziska ! 


206 


ZISKA 


Shouts echoed from every part of the 
hall: 

“ Ziska ! Ziska ! ” 

And at the name Lady Chetwynd Lyle 
rose in all her majesty from the seat she had 
occupied till then, and in tones of virtuous 
indignation said to Lady Fulkeward : 

“ I told you the Princess was not a prop- 
er person ! Now it is proved I am right ! 
To think I should have brought Dolly and 
Muriel here ! I shall really never forgive 
myself ! Come, Sir Chetwynd, — let us leave 
this place instantly ! ” 

And stout Sir Chetwynd, gloating on the 
exquisite beauty of the Princess Ziska’s 
form as she still danced on in her snowy 
white attire, her lovely face alight with mirth 
at the surprise she had made for her guests, 
tried his best to look sanctimonious and 
signally failed in the attempt as he an- 
swered : 

“ Certainly ! Certainly, my dear ! Most 
improper . . . most astonishing ! ” 

While Lady Fulkeward answered inno- 
cently : 

“ Is it ? Do you really think so ? Oh, 
dear ! I suppose it is improper, — it must 
be, you know ; but it is most delightful and 
original ! ” 


ZISKA 


20 / 


And while the Chetwynd Lyles thus 
moved to depart in a cloud of outraged pro- 
priety, followed by others who likewise 
thought it well to pretend to be shocked at 
the proceeding, Gervase, dizzy, breathless, 
and torn by such conflicting passions as he 
could never express, was in a condition 
more mad than sane. 

“ My God ! ” he muttered under his breath. 
“ This — this is love ! This is the beginning 
and end of life ! To possess her, — to hold 
her in my arms — heart to heart, lips to lips 
. . . this is what all the eternal forces 
of Nature meant when they made me 
man ! ” 

And he watched with strained, passionate 
eyes the movements of the Princess Ziska 
as they grew slower and slower, till she 
seemed floating merely like a foam-bell on a 
wave, and then . . . from some unseen 
quarter of the room a rich throbbing voice 
began to sing : — 

“ Oh, for the passionless peace of the Lotus-Lily ! 

It floats in a waking dream on the waters chilly, 
With its leaves unfurled 
To the wondering world, 

Knowing naught of the sorrow and restless pain 
That burns and tortures the human brain ; 

Oh, for the passionless peace of the Lotus-Lily ! 


208 


ZISKA 


Oh, for the pure cold heart of the Lotus-Lily ! 

Bared to the moon on the waters dark and chilly. 

A star above 
Is its only love, 

And one brief sigh of its scented breath 

Is all it will ever know of Death ; 

Oh, for the pure cold heart of the Lotus-Lily ! ’ 

As the sound died away in a sigh rather 
than a note, the Princess Ziska’s dancing 
ceased altogether. A shout of applause 
broke from all assembled, and in the midst 
of it there was a sudden commotion and ex- 
citement, and Dr. Dean was seen bending 
over a man's prostrate figure. The great 
French painter, Armand Gervase, had sud- 
denly fainted. 


ZISKA 


209 


CHAPTER XII. 

A CURIOUS yet very general feeling of 
superstitious uneasiness and discomfort per- 
vaded the Gezireh Palace Hotel the day 
after the Princess Ziska’s reception. Some- 
thing had happened, and no one knew what. 
The proprieties had been outraged, but no 
one knew why. It was certainly not the 
custom for a hostess, and a Princess to boot, 
to dance like a wild bacchante before a crowd 
of her invited guests, yet, as Dr. Dean blandly 
observed, — 

“ Where was the harm ? In London, 
ladies of good birth and breeding went in for 
‘ skirt-dancing/ and no one presumed to 
breathe a word against their reputations ; 
why in Cairo should not a lady go in for 
a Theban dance without being considered 
improper ? ” 

Why, indeed ? There seemed no ad- 
equate reason for being either surprised or 
offended ; yet surprised and offended most 
people were, and scandal ran rife, and rumor 

14 


210 


ZISKA 


wagged all its poisonous tongues to spread 
evil reports against the Princess Ziska’s name 
and fame, till Denzil Murray, maddened and 
furious, rushed up to his sister in her room 
and swore that he would marry the Princess 
if he died for it. 

“ They are blackguarding her downstairs, 
the beasts ! ” he said hotly. “ They are call- 
ing her by every bad name under the sun ! 
But I will make everything straight for her; 
she shall be my wife ! If she will have me, 
I will marry her to-morrow ! ” 

Helen looked at him in speechless despair. 

“ Oh, Denzil ! ” she faltered, and then could 
say no more, for the tears that blinded her 
eyes. 

“ Oh, yes, of course, I know what you 
mean ! ” he continued, marching up and 
down the room excitedly. “You are like 
all the others ; you think her an adventuress. 
I think her the purest, the noblest of women ! 
There is where we differ. I spoke to her 
last night, — I told her I loved her.” 

“ You did ? ” and Helen gazed at him with 
wet, tragic eyes, — “ And she . . .” 

“ She bade me be silent. She told me I 
must not speak — not yet. She said she 
would give me her answer when we were all 
together at the Mena House Hotel.” 


ZISKA 


2 1 1 


“ You intend to be one of the party there 
then?” said Helen faintly. 

“ Of course I do. And so do you, I hope.” 

“ No, Denzil, I cannot. Don’t ask me. I 
will stay here with Lady Fulkeward. She is 
not going, nor are the Chetwynd Lyles. I 
shall be quite safe with them. I would 
rather not go to the Mena House, — I could 
not bear it . . .” 

Her voice gave way entirely, and she broke 
out crying bitterly. 

Denzil stood still and regarded her with a 
kind of sullen shame and remorse. 

“ What a very sympathetic sister you are ! ” 
he observed. “When you see me madly 
in love with a woman — a perfectly beautiful, 
adorable woman — you put yourself at once 
in the way and make out that my marriage 
with her will be a misery to you. Y ou surely 
do not expect me to remain single all my 
life, do you ? ” 

“No, Denzil,” sobbed Helen, “but I had 
hoped to see you marry some sweet girl of 
our own land who would be your dear and 
true companion, — who would be a sister to 
me, — who . . . there ! don’t mind me ! Be 
happy in your own way, my dear brother. 
I have no business to interfere. I can only 
say that if the Princess Ziska consents to 


212 


ZISKA 


marry you, I will do my best to like her, for 
your sake.” 

“ Well, that's something, at any rate,” 
said Denzil, with an air of relief. “ Don't 
cry, Helen, it bothers me. As for the 4 sweet 
girl ' you have got in view for me, you will 
permit me to say that ‘ sweet girls ' are 
becoming uncommonly scarce in Britain. 
What with bicycle riders and great rough 
tomboys generally, with large hands and 
larger feet, I confess I do not care about 
them. I like a womanly woman, — a grace- 
ful woman, — a fascinating, bewitching 
woman, and the Princess is all that and more. 
Surely you consider her beautiful ? ” 

“Very beautiful indeed!” sighed poor 
Helen. — “ Too beautiful ! '* 

“ Nonsense ! As if any woman can be too 
beautiful ! I am sorry you won’t come to 
the Mena House. It would be a change 
for you, — and Gervase is going.” 

“Is he better to-day?” inquired Helen 
timidly. 

“Oh, I believe he is quite well again. It 
was the heat or the scent of the flowers, or 
something of that sort, that made him faint 
last night. He is not acclimatized yet, you 
know. And he said that the Princess's danc- 
ing made him giddy.” 


ZISKA 


213 


“ I don’t wonder at that,” murmured 
Helen. 

“ It was marvellous — glorious!” said 
Denzil dreamily. “ It was like nothing else 
ever seen or imagined ! ” 

“ If she were your wife, would you care 
for her to dance before people ? ” inquired 
Helen tremblingly. 

Denzil turned upon her in haughty wrath. 

“ How like a woman that is ! To insinuate 
a nasty suggestion — to imply an innuendo 
without uttering it ! If she were my wife, 
she would do nothing unbecoming that posi- 
tion.” 

“ Then you did think it a little unbecom- 
ing ? ” persisted Helen. 

“ No, I did not /” said Denzil sharply. 
“An independent woman may do many 
things that a married woman may not. 
Marriage brings its own duties and respon- 
sibilities, — time enough to consider them 
when they come.” 

He turned angrily on his heel and left her, 
and Helen, burying her fair face in her hands, 
wept long and unrestrainedly. This “ strange 
woman out of Egypt ” had turned her 
brother’s heart against her, and stolen away 
her almost declared lover. It was no wonder 
that her tears fell fast, wrung from her with 


214 


ZISKA 


the pain of this double wound ; for Helen, 
though quiet and undemonstrative, had fine 
feelings and unsounded depths of passion in 
her nature, and the fatal attraction she felt 
for Armand Gervase was more powerful 
than she had herself known. Now that he 
had openly confessed his infatuation for an- 
other woman, it seemed as though the earth 
had opened at her feet and shown her noth- 
ing but a grave in which to fall. Life — 
empty and blank and bare of love and tender- 
ness, stretched before her imagination ; she 
saw herself toiling along the monotonously 
even road of duty till her hair became gray 
and her face thin and wan and wrinkled, and 
never a gleam again of the beautiful, glow- 
ing, romantic passion that for a short time 
had made her days splendid with the dreams 
that are sweeter than all realities. 

Poor Helen ! It was little marvel that she 
wept as all women weep when their hearts 
are broken. It is so easy to break a heart ; 
sometimes a mere word will do it. But the 
vanishing of the winged Love-god from the 
soul is even more than heart-break, — it is 
utter and irretrievable loss, — complete and 
dominating chaos out of which no good 
thing can ever be designed or created. In 
our days we do our best to supply the place 


ZISKA 


215 


of a reluctant Eros by the gilded, grinning 
Mammon-figure which we try to consider as 
superior to any silver-pinioned god that ever 
descended in his rainbow car to sing heav- 
enly songs to mortals ; but it is an unlovely 
substitute, — a hideous idol at best ; and grasp 
its golden knees and worship it as we will, 
it gives us little or no comfort in the hours 
of strong temptation or trouble. We have 
made a mistake — we, in our progressive gen- 
eration, — we have banished the old sweet- 
nesses, triumphs and delights of life, and we 
have got in exchange steam and electricity. 
But the heart of the age clamors on unsat- 
isfied, — none of our“ new ” ideas content it 
— nothing pacifies its restless yearning; it 
feels — this great heart of human life — that 
it is losing more than it gains, hence the in- 
cessant, restless aching of the time, and the 
perpetual longing for something Science can- 
not teach, — something vague, beautiful, in- 
definable, yet satisfying to every pulse of 
the soul ; and the nearest emotion to that 
divine solace is what we in our higher and 
better moments recognize as Love. And 
Love was lost to Helen Murray ; the choice 
pearl had fallen in the vast gulf of Might- 
have-been, and not all the forces of Nature 
would ever restore to her that priceless gem. 


2l6 


ZISKA 


And while she wept to herself in solitude, 
and her brother Denzil wandered about in 
the gardens of the hotel, encouraging within 
himself hopes of winning the bewitching 
Ziska for a wife, Armand Gervase, shut up 
in his room under plea of slight indisposition, 
reviewed the emotions of the past night and 
tired to analyze them. Some men are born 
self-analysts, and are able to dissect their 
feelings by some peculiar form of mental 
surgery which finally leads them to cut out 
tenderness as though it were a cancer, love 
as a disease, and romantic aspirations as 
mere uncomfortable growths injurious to 
self-interest, but Gervase was not one of 
these. Outwardly he assumed more or less 
the composed and careless demeanor of the 
modern French cynic, but inwardly the man 
was a raging fire of fierce passions which were 
sometimes too strong to be held in check. 
At the present moment he was prepared to 
sacrifice everything, even life itself, to obtain 
possession of the woman he coveted, and he 
made no attempt whatever to resist the tem- 
pest of desire that was urging him on with 
an invincible force in a direction which, for 
some strange and altogether inexplicable 
reason, he dreaded. Yes, there was a dim 
sense of terror lurking behind all the wild 


ZISKA. 


217 


passion that filled his soul — a haunting, vague 
idea that this sudden love, with its glowing 
ardor and intoxicating delirium, was like the 
brilliant red sunset which frequently prog- 
nosticates a night of storm, ruin and death. 
Yet, though he felt this presentiment like a 
creeping shudder of cold through his blood, 
it did not hold him back, or for a moment 
impress him with the idea that it might be 
better to yield no further to this desperate 
love-madness which enthralled him. 

Once only, he thought, “ What if I left 
Egypt now — at once — and saw her no 
more ? ” And then he laughed scornfully 
at the impossibility proposed. “ Leave 
Egypt ! ” he muttered, “ I might as well leave 
the world altogether ! She would draw me 
back with those sweet wild eyes of hers, — she 
would drag me from the uttermost parts of 
the earth to fall at her feet in a very agony of 
love. My God ! She must have her way and 
do with me as she will, for I feel that she 
holds my life in her hands ! ” 

As he spoke these last words half aloud, 
he sprang up from the chair in which he had 
been reclining, and stood for a moment lost 
in frowning meditation. 

“ My life in her hands ! ” he repeated mus- 
ingly. “ Yes, it has come to that ! My life ! ” 


218 


ZISKA 


A great sigh broke from him. “ My life — 
my art — my work — my name ! In all these 
things I have taken pride, and she — she can 
trample them under her feet and make of 
me nothing more than man clamoring for 
woman’s love ! What a wild world it is ! 
What a strange Force must that be which 
created it! — the Force that some men call 
God and others Devil ! A strange, blind, 
brute Force ! — for it makes us aspire only to 
fall ; it gives a man dreams of ambition and 
splendid attainment only to fling him like a 
mad fool on a woman’s breast, and bid him 
find there, and there only, the bewildering 
sweetness which makes everything else in 
existence poor and tame in comparison. 
Well, well — my life ! What is it? A mere 
grain of sand dropped in the sea; let her do 
with it as she will. God ! How I felt her 
power upon me last night, — last night when 
her lithe figure swaying in the dance remind- 
ed me . . 

He paused, startled at the turn his own 
thoughts were taking. 

“ Of what ? Let me try and express to 
myself now what I could not express or re- 
alize last night. She — Ziska — I thought 
was mine, — mine from her dimpled feet to 
her dusky hair, — and she danced for me 


ZISKA 


2ig 


alone. It seemed that the jewels she wore 
upon her rounded arms and slender ankles 
were all love-gifts from me — every circlet of 
gold, every starry, shining gem on her fair 
body was the symbol of some secret joy 
between us — joy so keen as to be almost 
pain. And as she danced, I thought I was 
in a vast hall of a majestic palace, where 
open colonnades revealed wide glimpses of 
a burning desert and deep blue sky. I heard 
the distant sound of rolling drums, and not 
far off I saw the Sphinx — a creature not old 
but new — resting upon a giant pedestal and 
guarding the sculptured gate of some great 
temple which contained, as I then thought, 
all the treasures of the world. I could paint 
the picture as I saw it then ! It was a fleet- 
ing impression merely, conjured up by the 
dance that dizzied my brain. And that song 
of the Lotus-lily ! That was strange — very 
strange, for I thought I had heard it often 
before, — and I saw myself in the vague 
dream, a prince, a warrior, almost a king, 
and far more famous in the world than I am 
now ! ” 

He looked about him uneasily, with a 
kind of nervous terror, and his eyes rested 
for a moment on the easel where the pic- 
ture he had painted of the Princess was 


220 


ZISKA 


placed, covered from view by a fold of dark 
cloth. 

“ Bah ! ” he exclaimed at last with a forced 
laugh, “ What stupid fancies fool me ! It is 
all the vague talk of that would-be learned 
ass, Dr. Dean, with his ridiculous theories 
about life and death. I shall be imagining 
I am his fad, Araxes, next! This sort of 
thing will never do. Let me reason out the 
matter calmly. I love this woman, — love her 
to absolute madness. It is not the best kind 
of love, maybe, but it is the only kind I am 
capable of, and such as it is, she possesses it 
all. What then ? Well ! We go to-morrow 
to the Pyramids, and we join her at the 
Mena House, I and the poor boy Denzil. 
He will try his chance — I mine. If he wins, 
I shall kill him as surely as I myself live, — 
yes, even though he is Helen's brother. No 
man shall snatch Ziska from my arms and 
continue to breathe. If I win, it is possible 
he may kill me, and I shall respect him for 
trying to do it. But I shall satisfy my love 
first ; Ziska will be mine — mine in every 
sense of possession, — before I die. Yes, that 
must be — that will have to be. And after- 
wards, — why let Denzil do his worst ; a man 
can but die once." 

He drew the cloth off his easel and stared 


ZISKA 


221 


at the strange picture of the Princess, which 
seemed almost sentient in its half-watchful, 
half-mocking expression. 

“ There is a dead face and a living one on 
this canvas/’ he said, “ and the dead face 
seems to enthral me as much as the living. 
Both have the same cruel smile, — both the 
same compelling magnetism of eye. Only 
it is a singular thing that I should know the 
dead face even more intimately than the 
living — that the tortured look upon it should 
be a kind of haunting memory — horrible — 
ghastly. . . .” 

He flung the cloth over the easel again 
impatiently, and tried to laugh at his own 
morbid imagination. 

“ I know who is responsible for all this 
nonsense,” he said. “ It is that ridiculous 
little half-mad faddist, Dr. Dean. He is 
going to the Mena House, too. Well ! — he 
will be the witness of a comedy or a tragedy 
there, — and Heaven alone knows which it 
will be ! ” 

And to distract his thoughts from dwell- 
ing any longer on the haunting ideas that 
perplexed him, he took up one of the latest 
and frothiest of French novels and began to 
read. Some one in a room not far off was 
singing a French song, — a man with a rich 


222 


ZISKA 


baritone voice, — and unconsciously to him- 
self Gervase caught the words as they rang 
out full and clearly on the quiet, heated 
air — 

O toi que j’ai tant aim£e 
Songes-tu que je t’aime encor ? 

Et dans ton ame alarmee, 

Ne sens-tu pas quelque retnord ? 

Viens avec moi, si tu m’aimes, 

Habiter dans ces deserts ; 

Nous y vivrons pour nous memes, 

Oubli£s de tout l’univers ! 

And something like a mist of tears cloud- 
ed his aching eyes as he repeated, half me- 
chanically and dreamily — 


O toi que j’ai tant aim£e, 
Songes-tu que je t’aime encor ? 


ZISKA 


223 


CHAPTER XIII. 

FOR the benefit of those among the un- 
travelled English who have not yet broken 
a soda-water bottle against the Sphinx, or 
eaten sandwiches to the immortal memory 
of Cheops, it may be as well to explain that 
the Mena House Hotel is a long, rambling, 
roomy building, situated within five minutes’ 
walk of the Great Pyramid, and happily 
possessed of a golfing-ground and a marble 
swimming-bath. That ubiquitous nuisance, 
the “ amateur photographer,” can there have 
his “ dark room ” for the development of 
his more or less imperfect “ plates ” ; and 
there is a resident chaplain for the piously 
inclined. With a chaplain and a “ dark 
room,” what more can the aspiring soul of 
the modern tourist desire? Some of the 
rooms at the Mena House are small and 
stuffy ; others large and furnished with suffi- 
cient elegance : and the Princess Ziska had 
secured a “ suite ” of the best that could 
be obtained, and was soon installed there 


224 


ZISKA 


with befitting luxury. She left Cairo quite 
suddenly, and without any visible prepara- 
tion, the morning after the reception in 
which she had astonished her guests by her 
dancing : and she did not call at the Gezireh 
Palace Hotel to say good-bye to any of her 
acquaintances there. She was perhaps con- 
scious that her somewhat “ free ” behavior 
had startled several worthy and sanctimoni- 
ous persons ; and possibly she also thought 
that to take rooms in an hotel which was 
only an hour’s distance from Cairo, could 
scarcely be considered as absenting herself 
from Cairene society. She was followed to 
her desert retreat by Dr. Dean, Armand 
Gervase, and Denzil Murray, who drove to 
the Mena House together in one carriage, 
and were more or less all three in a sober 
and meditative frame of mind. They ar- 
rived in time to see the Sphinx bathed in the 
fierce glow of an ardent sunset, which turned 
the golden sands to crimson, and made the 
granite monster look like a cruel idol surround- 
ed by a sea of blood. The brilliant red of 
the heavens flamed in its stony eyes, and gave 
them a sentient look as of contemplated 
murder, — and the same radiance fitfully 
playing on the half-scornful, half-sensual lips 
caused them to smile with a seeming volup- 


ZISKA 


225 


tuous mockery. Dr. Dean stood transfixed 
for a while at the strange splendor of the 
spectacle, and turning to his two silent com- 
panions, said suddenly : 

“ There is something, after all, in the un- 
guessed riddle of the Sphinx. It is not a 
fable ; it is a truth. There is a problem to 
be solved, and that monstrous creature knows 
it ! The woman's face, the brute's body — 
Spiritualism and Materialism in one ! It is 
life, and more than life ; it is love. Forever 
and forever it teaches the same wonderful, 
terrible mystery. We aspire, yet we fall ; 
love would fain give us wings wherewith to 
fly ; but the wretched body lies prone — 
supine ; it cannot soar to the Light Eter- 
nal." 

“What is the Light Eternal?" queried 
Gervase, moodily. “ How do we know it 
exists? We cannot prove it. This world 
is what we see ; we have to do with it and 
ourselves. Soul without body could not 
exist. . . ." 

“ Could it not ? " said the Doctor. “ How, 
then, does body exist without soul ? " 

This was an unexpected but fair question, 
and Gervase found himself curiously per- 
plexed by it. He offered no reply, neither 
did Denzil, and they all three slowly entered 


226 


ZISKA 


the Mena House Hotel, thereto be met with 
deferential salutations by the urbane and 
affable landlord, and to be assured that they 
would find their rooms comfortable, and also 
that “ Madame la Princesse Ziska” expected 
them to dine with her that evening. At this 
message, Denzil Murray made a sign to Ger- 
vase that he wished to speak to him alone. 
Gervase move aside with him. 

“ Give me my chance ! ” said Denzil, 
fiercely. 

“ Take it ! ” replied Gervase listlessly. 
“ Let to-night witness the interchange of 
hearts between you and the Princess ; I shall 
not interfere.” 

Denzil stared at him in sullen astonish- 
ment. 

“You will not interfere? Your fancy for 
her is at an end ? ” 

Gervase raised his dark, glowing eyes and 
fixed them on his would-be rival with a 
strange and sombre expression. 

“ My ‘ fancy * for her ? My good boy, take 
care what you say ! Don’t rouse me too far, 
for I am dangerous ! My 4 fancy 9 for her ! 
What do you know of it? You are hot- 
blooded and young ; but the chill of the 
North controls you in a fashion, while I — a 
man in the prime of manhood — am of the 


ZISKA. 


227 


South, and the Southern fire brooks no con- 
trol. Have you seen a quiet ocean, smooth 
as glass, with only a dimple in the deep blue 
to show that perhaps, should occasion serve, 
there might arise a little wave ? And have 
you seen the wild storm breaking from a 
black cloud and suddenly making that quiet 
expanse nothing but a tourbillon of furious 
elements, in which the very sea-gulls cry is 
whelmed and lost in the thunder of the 
billows? Such a storm as that may be com- 
pared to the ‘ fancy ’ you suppose I feel for 
the woman who has dragged us both here to 
die at her feet — for that, I believe, is what 
it will come to. Life is not possible under 
the strain of emotion with which we two are 
living it. . . .” 

He broke off, then resumed in quieter 
tones : 

“ I say to you : Use your opportunities 
while you have them. After dinner I will 
leave you alone with the Princess. I will go 
out for a stroll with Dr. Dean. Take your 
chance, Denzil, for, as I live, it is your last ! 
It will be my turn next ! Give me credit for 
to-night’s patience ! ” 

He turned quickly away, and in a moment 
was gone. Denzil Murray stood still for a 
while, thinking deeply, and trying to review 


228 


ZISKA 


the position in which he found himself. He 
was madly in love with a woman for whom 
his only sister had the most violent antipathy ; 
and that sister, who had once been all in all 
to him, had now become almost less than 
nothing in the headstrong passion which con- 
sumed him. No consideration for her peace 
and ultimate happiness affected him, though 
he was sensible of a certain remorseful pity 
when thinking of her gentle ways and docile 
yielding to his often impatient and impetuous 
humors ; but, after all, she was only his 
sister, — she could not understand his present 
condition of mind. Then there was Gervase, 
whom he had for some years looked upon as 
one of his most admired and intimate friends ; 
now he was nothing more or less than a rival 
and an enemy, notwithstanding his seeming 
courtesy and civil self-restraint. As a matter 
of fact, he, Denzil, was left alone to face his 
fate : to dare the brilliant seduction of the 
witching eyes of Ziska, — to win her or to lose 
her forever ! And consider every point as 
he would, the weary conviction was borne in 
upon him that, whether he met with victory 
or defeat, the result would bring more misery 
than joy. 

When he entered the Princess’s salon that 
evening, he found Dr. Dean and Gervase 


ZISKA 


229 


already there. The Princess herself, attired 
in a dinner-dress made with quite a modern 
Parisian elegance, received him in her usual 
graceful manner, and expressed with much 
sweetness her hope that the air of the desert 
would prove beneficial to him after the great 
heats that had prevailed in Cairo. Nothing 
but conventionalities were spoken. Oh, 
those conventionalities ! What a world of 
repressed emotions they sometimes cover! 
How difficult it is to conceive that the man 
and woman who are greeting each other 
with calm courtesy in a crowded drawing- 
room are the very two, who, standing face to 
face in the moonlit silence of some lonely 
grove of trees or shaded garden, once in their 
lives suddenly realized the wild passion that 
neither dared confess ! Tragedies lie deepest 
under conventionalities — such secrets are 
buried beneath them as sometimes might 
make the angels weep ! They are safeguards, 
however, against stronger emotions ; and the 
strange bathos of two human creatures talk- 
ing politely about the weather when the 
soul of each is clamoring for the other, has 
sometimes, despite its absurdity, saved the 
situation. 

At dinner, the Princess Ziska devoted 
herself almost entirely to the entertainment 


230 


ZISKA 


of Dr. Dean, and awakened his interest 
very keenly on the subject of the Great 
Pyramid. 

“ It has never really been explored,” she 
said. “ The excavators who imagine they 
have fathomed its secrets are completely in 
error. The upper chambers are mere deceits 
to the investigator ; they were built and 
planned purposely to mislead, and the secrets 
they hide have never even been guessed at, 
much less discovered.” 

“ Are you sure of that ? ” inquired the 
Doctor, eagerly. “ If so, would you not 
give your information. . . .” 

“ I neither give my information nor sell 
it,” interrupted the Princess, smiling coldly. 
“ I am only a woman — and women are sup- 
posed to know nothing. With the rest of 
my sex, I am judged illogical and imagina- 
tive ; you wise men would call my knowl- 
edge of history deficient, my facts not 
proven. But, if you like, I will tell you the 
story of the construction of the Great 
Pyramid, and why it is unlikely that anyone 
will ever find the treasures that are buried 
within it. You can receive the narrative 
with the usual incredulity common to men ; 
I shall not attempt to argue the pros and 
cons with you, because I never argue. Treat 


ZISKA 


231 


it as a fairy-tale — no woman is ever supposed 
to know anything for a fact, — she is too 
stupid. Only men are wise ! ” 

Her dark, disdainful glance flashed on 
Gervase and Denzil ; anon she smiled be- 
witchingly, and added : 

“ Is it not so ? ” 

“ Wisdom is nothing compared to beauty,” 
said Gervase. “ A beautiful woman can turn 
the wisest man into a fool.” 

The Princess laughed lightly. 

“ Yes, and a moment afterwards he regrets 
his folly,” she said. “ He clamors for the 
beautiful woman as a child might cry for the 
moon, and when he at last possesses her, he 
tires. Satisfied with having compassed her 
degradation, he exclaims : “ What shall I do 
with this beauty, which, because it is mine, 
now palls upon me ? Let me kill it and for- 
get it ; I am aweary of love, and the world is 
full of women ! ’ That is the way of your 
sex, Monsieur Gervase ; it is a brutal way, 
but it is the one most of you follow.” 

“ There is such a thing as love ! ” said 
Denzil, looking up quickly, a pained flush on 
his handsome face. 

“ In the hearts of women, yes ! ” said 
Ziska, her voice growing tremulous with 
strange and sudden passion. “ Women love 


232 


ZISKA 


— ah ! — with what force and tenderness and 
utter abandonment of self ! But their love 
is in ninety-nine cases out of a hundred utterly 
wasted ; it is a largesse flung to the ungrate- 
ful, a jewel tossed in the mire! If there 
were not some compensation in the next life 
for the ruin wrought on loving women, the 
Eternal God himself would be a mockery 
and a jest.” 

“ And is he not ? ” queried Gervase, iron- 
icalfy. “Fair Princess, I would not will- 
ingly shake your faith in things unseen, but 
what does the ‘ Eternal God/ as you call Him, 
care as to the destiny of any individual 
unit on this globe of matter? Does He 
interfere when the murderer's knife descends 
upon the victim ? And has He ever inter- 
fered ? He it is who created the sexes and 
placed between them the strong attraction 
that often works more evil and misery than 
good ; and what barrier has He ever inter- 
posed between woman and man, her natural 
destroyer? None! — save the trifling one 
of virtue, which is a flimsy thing, and often 
breaks down at the first temptation. No, 
my dear Princess ; the ‘ Eternal God,' if there 
is one, does nothing but look on impassively 
at the universal havoc of creation. And in 
the blindness and silence of things, I cannot 


ZISKA 


233 


recognize an Eternal God at all ; we were 
evidently made to eat, drink, breed and die 
— and there an end.” 

“What of ambition?” asked Dr. Dean. 
“ What of the inspiration that lifts a man 
beyond himself and his material needs, and 
teaches him to strive after the Highest?” 

“ Mere mad folly ! ” replied Gervase im- 
petuously. “Take the Arts. I, for ex- 
ample, dream of painting a picture that shall 
move the world to admiration, — but I seldom 
grasp the idea I have imagined. I paint 
something, — anything, — and the world gapes 
at it, and some rich fool buys it, leaving 
me free to paint another something ; and 
so on and so on, to the end of my career. 
I ask you what satisfaction does it bring ? 
What is it to Raphael that thousands of 
human units, cultured and silly, have stared 
at his ‘ Madonnas 9 and his famous Cartoons ? ” 

“ Well, we do not exactly know what it 
may or may not be to Raphael,” said the 
Doctor, meditatively. “ According to my 
theories, Raphael is not dead, but merely 
removed into another form, on another 
planet possibly, and is working elsewhere. 
You might as well ask what it is to Araxes 
now that he was a famous warrior once ? ” 

Gervase moved uneasily. 


234 


ZISKA 


“ You have got Araxes on the brain, 
Doctor,” he said, with a forced smile, “ and 
in our conversation we are forgetting that 
the Princess has promised to tell us a fairy- 
tale, the story of the Great Pyramid.” 

The Princess looked at him, then at Denzil 
Murray, and lastly at Dr. Dean. 

“ Would you really care to hear it ? ” she 
asked. 

“ Most certainly ! ” they all three answered. 

She rose from the dinner-table. 

“ Come here to the window,” she said. 
“You can see the great structure now, in 
the dusky light, — look at it well and try, if^ 
you can, to realize that deep, deep down in 
the earth on which it stands is a connected 
gallery of rocky caves wherein no human 
foot has ever penetrated since the Deluge 
swept over the land and made a desert of all 
the old-time civilization ! ” 

Her slight figure appeared to dilate as she 
spoke, raising one slender hand and arm to 
point at the huge mass that towered up 
against the clear, starlit sky. Her listeners 
were silent, awed and attentive. 

“ One of the latest ideas concerning the 
Pyramids is, as you know, that they were 
built as towers of defence against the Del- 
uge. That is correct. The wise men of 


ZISKA 


235 


the old days foretold the time when i the 
waters should rise and cover the earth/ and 
these huge monuments were prepared and 
raised to a height which it was estimated 
would always appear above the level of the 
coming flood, to show where the treasures 
of Egypt were hidden for safety. Yes, — 
the treasures of Egypt, the wisdom, the 
science of Egypt ! They are all down there 
still ! And there, to all intents and purposes, 
they are likely to remain/' 

“ But archaeologists are of the opinion that 
the Pyramids have been thoroughly ex- 
plored," began Dr. Dean, with some excite- 
ment. 

The Princess interrupted him by a slight 
gesture. 

“ Archaeologists, my dear Doctor, are like 
the rest of this world’s so-called ‘ learned ’ 
men ; they work in one groove, and are 
generally content with it. Sometimes an 
unusually brilliant brain conceives the erratic 
notion of working in several grooves, and is 
straightway judged as mad or fanatic. It is 
when these comet-like intelligences sweep 
across the world’s horizon that we hear of a 
Julius Caesar, a Napoleon, a Shakespeare. 
But archaeologists are the narrowest and 
dryest of men, — they preconceive a certain 


236 


ZISKA. 


system of work and follow it out by mathe- 
matical rule and plan, without one touch 
of imagination to help them to discover new 
channels of interest or historical information. 
As I told you before I began to speak, you 
are welcome to entirely disbelieve my story 
of the Great Pyramid, — but as I have begun 
it, you may as well hear it through.” 

She paused a moment, then went on : 

“ According to my information, the build- 
ing of the Pyramids was commenced three 
hundred years before the Deluge, in the 
time of Saurid, the son of Sabaloc, who, it is 
said, was the first to receive a warning dream 
of the coming flood. Saurid, being con- 
vinced by his priests, astrologers and sooth- 
sayers that the portent was a true one, be- 
came from that time possessed of one idea, 
which was that the vast learning of Egypt, 
its sciences, discoveries and strange tradi- 
tions should not be lost, — and that the ex- 
ploits and achievements of those who were 
great and famous in the land should be so 
recorded as never to be forgotten. In those 
days, here where you see these measureless 
tracts of sand, there were great mountainous 
rocks and granite quarries, and Saurid util- 
ized these for the hollowing out of deep 
caverns in which to conceal treasure. When 


ZISKA. 


237 


these caverns were prepared to his liking, he 
caused a floor to be made, portions of which 
were rendered movable by means of secret 
springs, and then leaving a hollow space of 
some four feet in height, he started founda- 
tions for another floor above it. This upper 
floor is what you nowadays see when you 
enter the Pyramid, — and no one imagines 
that under it is an open space with room to 
walk in, and yet another floor below, where 
everything of value is secreted.” 

Dr. Dean ..drew a long breath of wonder- 
ment. 

“ Astonishing, if true ! ” 

The Princess smiled somewhat disdain- 
fully, and went on : 

“Saurid’s work was carried on after his 
death by his successors, and with thousands 
of slaves toiling night and day the Pyramids 
were in the course of years raised above the 
caverns which concealed Egypt’s mysteries. 
Everything was gradually accumulated in 
these underground store-houses, — the en- 
graved talismans, the slabs of stone on which 
were deeply carved the geometrical and astro- 
nomical sciences ; indestructible glass chests 
containing papyri, on which were written the 
various discoveries made in beneficial drugs, 
swift poisons, and other medicines. And 


238 


ZISKA 


among these many things were thirty great 
jars full of precious stones, some of which 
were marvels of the earth. They are there 
still ! And some of the great men who died 
were interred in these caves, every one in a 
separate chamber inlaid with gold and gems, 
and I think,” here the Princess turned her 
dark eyes full on Dr. Dean, “ I think that if 
you knew the secret way of lifting the ap- 
parently immovable floor, which is like the 
solid ground, and descending through the 
winding galleries beneath, it is more than 
probable you would find in the Great Pyra- 
mid the tomb of Araxes ! ” 

Her eyes glistened strangely in the even- 
ing light with that peculiar fiery glow which 
had made Dr. Dean once describe them as 
being like the eyes of a vampire-bat, and 
there was something curiously impressive in 
her gesture as she once more pointed to the 
towering structure which loomed against the 
heavens, with one star flashing immediately 
above it. A sudden involuntary shudder 
shook Gervase as with icy cold ; he moved 
restlessly, and presently remarked : 

“Well, it is a safe tomb, at any rate! 
Whoever Araxes was, he stands little chance 
of being exhumed if he lies two floors below 
the Great Pyramid in a sealed-up rocky 


ZISKA 


239 


cavern ! Princess, you look like an inspired 
prophetess ! — so much talk of ancient and 
musty times makes me feel uncanny, and I 
will, with your permission, have a smoke 
with Dr. Dean in the garden to steady my 
nerves. The mere notion of thirty vases 
of unclaimed precious stones hidden down 
yonder is enough to upset any man’s 
equanimity ! ” 

“ The papyri would interest me more than 
the jewels,” said Dr. Dean. “ What do you 
say, Denzil ? ” 

Denzil Murray woke up suddenly from a 
fit of abstraction. 

“ Oh, I don’t know anything about it,” 
he answered. “ I never was very much in- 
terested in those old times, — they seem to 
me all myth. I could never link past, pres- 
ent and future together as some people can ; 
they are to me all separate things. The 
past is done with, — the present is our own 
to enjoy or to detest, and the future no man 
can look into.” 

“ Ah, Denzil, you are young, and reflec- 
tion has not been very hard at work in that 
headstrong brain of yours,” said Dr. Dean 
with an indulgent smile, “ otherwise you 
would see that past, present and future are 
one and indissoluble. The past is as much 


240 


ZISKA 


a part of your present identity as the pres- 
ent, and the future, too, lies in you in em- 
bryo. The mystery of one man’s life con- 
tains all mysteries, and if we could only 
understand it from its very beginning we 
should find out the cause of all things, and 
the ultimate intention of creation.” 

“ Well, now, you have all had enough 
serious talk,” said the Princess Ziska lightly, 
“so let us adjourn to the drawing-room. 
One of my waiting-women shall sing to you 
by and by ; she has a very sweet Voice.” 

“ Is it she who sings that song about the 
lotus-lily ? ” asked Gervase, suddenly. 

The Princess smiled strangely. 

“ Yes, — it is she.” 

Dr. Dean chose a cigar from a silver box 
on the table ; Gervase did the same. 

“Won’t you smoke, Denzil?” he asked 
carelessly. 

“No, thanks!” Denzil spoke hurriedly 
and hoarsely. “ I think — if the Princess 
will permit me — I will stay and talk with 
her in the drawing-room while you two have 
your smoke together.” 

The Princess gave a charming bow of 
assent to this proposition. Gervase took 
the Doctor somewhat roughly by the arm 
and led him out through the open French 


ZISKA 


241 


window into the grounds beyond, remark- 
ing as he went : 

“ You will excuse us, Princess ? We leave 
you in good company ! ” 

She smiled. 

“ I will excuse you, certainly ! But do 
not be long ! ” 

And she passed from the dining-room in- 
to the small saloon beyond, followed closely 
by Denzil. 

Once out in the grounds, Gervase gave 
vent to a boisterous fit of wild laughter, so 
loud and fierce that little Dr. Dean came to 
an abrupt standstill, and stared at him in 
something of alarm as well as amazement. 

“ Are you going mad, Gervase ? ” he asked. 

“ Yes ! ” cried Gervase, “ that is just it, — I 
am going mad, — mad for love, or whatever 
you please to call it ! What do you think 
I am made of ? Flesh and blood, or cast- 
iron ? Heavens ! Do you think if all the 
elements were to combine in a war against 
me, they should cheat me out of this woman 
or rob me of her? No, no! A thousand 
times no ! Satisfy yourself, my excellent 
Doctor, with your musty records of the past, 
— prate as you choose of the future, — but 
in the immediate, burning, active present 
my will is law ! And the fool Denzil thinks 
16 


242 


ZISKA 


to thwart me, — I, who have never been 
thwarted since I knew the meaning of ex- 
istence ! ” 

He paused in a kind of breathless agita- 
tion, and Dr. Dean grasped his arm firmly. 

“ Come, come, what is all this excitement 
for ? ” he said. “ What are you saying about 
Denzil ? ” 

Gervase controlled himself with a violent 
effort and forced a smile. 

“ He has got his chance, — I have given it 
to him ! He is alone with the Princess, and 
he is asking her to be his wife ! ” 

“ Nonsense ! ” said the Doctor sharply. 
“ If he does commit such a folly, it will be 
no use. The woman is not human ! ” 

“ Not human? ” echoed Gervase, his black 
eyes dilating with a sudden amazement — 
“ What do you mean ? ” 

The little Doctor rubbed his nose im- 
patiently and seemed sorry he had spoken. 

“ I mean — let me see ! What do I mean ? ” 
he said at last meditatively—' “ Oh, well, it 
is easy enough of explanation. There are 
plenty of people like the Princess Ziska to 
whom I would apply the words * not human/ 
She is all beauty and no heart. Again — if 
you follow me — she is all desire and no 
passion, which is a character ‘ like unto the 


ZISKA 


243 


beasts which perish.’ A large majority of 
men are made so, and some women, — though 
the women are comparatively few. Now, 
so far as the Princess Ziska is concerned,” 
continued the Doctor, fixing his keen, pene- 
trative glance on Gervase as he spoke, “ I 
franklyadmit to you that I find in her material 
fora very curious and complex study. That 
is why I have come after her here. I have 
said she is all desire and no passion. That 
of itself is inhuman ; but what I am busy 
about now is to try and analyze the nature 
of the particular desire that moves her, con- 
trols her, keeps her alive, — in short. It is not 
love; of that I feel confident ; and it is not 
hate, — though it is more like hate than love. 
It is something indefinable, something that 
is almost occult, so deep-seated and bewilder- 
ing is the riddle. You look upon me as a 
madman — yes ! I know you do ! But mad 
or sane, I emphatically repeat, the Princess 
is not human , and by this expression I wish 
to imply that though she has the outward 
appearance of a most beautiful and seductive 
human body, she has the soul of a fiend. 
Now, do you understand me ? ” 

“ It would take CEdipus himself all his time 
to do that,” — said Gervase, forcing a laugh 
which had no mirth in it for he was con- 


244 


ZISKA 


scious of a vaguely unpleasant sensation — a 
chill, as of some dark presentiment, which 
oppressed his mind. “ When you know I do 
not believe in the soul, why do you talk to 
me about it? The soul of a fiend, — the soul 
of an angel, — what are they ? Mere empty 
terms to me, meaning nothing. I think I 
agree with you though, in one or two points 
concerning the Princess ; par exemple , I do 
not look upon her as one of those delicately 
embodied purities of womanhood before 
whom we men instinctively bend in rev- 
erence, but whom, at the same time, we gen- 
erally avoid, ashamed of our vileness. No ; 
she is certainly not one of the 

“ ‘ Maiden roses left to die 
Because they climb so near the sky, 

That not the boldest passer-by 

Can pluck them from their vantage high. ’ 

And whether it is best to be a solitary 
‘ maiden-rose ’ or a Princess Ziska, who shall 
say? And human or inhuman, whatever 
composition she is made of, you may make 
yourself positively certain that Denzil Murray 
is just now doing his best to persuade her 
to be a Highland chatelaine in the future. 
Heavens, what a strange fate it will be for 
la belle Egyptienne ! ” 


ZISKA 


245 


“ Oh, you think she is Egyptian then ? ” 
queried Dr. Dean, with an air of lively 
curiosity. 

“ Of course I do. She has the Egyptian 
type of form and countenance. Consider 
only the resemblance between her and the 
dancer she chose to represent the other night 
— the Ziska-Charmazel of the antique sculp- 
ture on her walls ! ” 

“ Ay, but if you grant one resemblance, 
you must also admit another, ” said the Doc- 
tor quickly. “ The likeness between your- 
self and the old-world warrior, Araxes, is no 
less remarkable ! ” Gervase moved uneasily, 
and a sudden pallor blanched his face, 
making it look wan and haggard in the light 
of the rising moon. “ And it is rather sin- 
gular/* went on the imperturbable savant , 
“ that according to the legend or history — 
whichever you please to consider it, — for in 
time, legends become histories and histories 
legends — Araxes should have been the lover 
of this very Ziska-Charmazel, and that you, 
who are the living portrait of Araxes, should 
suddenly become enamored of the equally 
living portrait of the dead woman ! You 
must own, that to a mere onlooker and ob- 
server like myself, it seems a curious coin- 
cidence ! ” 


246 


ZISKA 


Gervase smoked on in silence, his level 
brows contracted in a musing frown. 

“Yes, it seems curious,” he said at last, 
“ but a great many curious coincidences 
happen in this world — so many that we, in 
our days of rush and turmoil, have not time 
to consider them as they come or go. Per- 
haps of all the strange things in life, the 
sudden sympathies and the headstrong pas- 
sions which spring up in a day or a night 
between certain men and certain women are 
the strangest. I look upon you, Doctor, as 
a very clever fellow with just a little twist 
in his brain, or let us say a ‘ fad ’ about 
spiritual matters ; but in one of your more 
or less fantastic and extravagant theories I 
am half disposed to believe, and that is the 
notion you have of the possibility of some 
natures, male and female, having met before 
in a previous state of existence and under 
different forms, such as birds, flowers, or 
forest animals, or even mere incorporeal 
breaths of air and flame. It is an idea which 
I confess fascinates me. It seems fairly 
reasonable too, for, as many scientists argue 
that you cannot destroy matter, but only 
transform it, there is really nothing impos- 
sible in the suggestion.” 


ZISKA 247 

He paused, then added slowly as he flung 
the end of his cigar away : 

“ I have felt the force of this odd fancy of 
yours most strongly since I met the Prin- 
cess Ziska.” 

“ Indeed ! Then the impression she gave 
you first is still upon you — that of having 
known her before ? ” 

Gervase waited a minute or two before 
replying ; then he answered : 

“Yes. And not only of having known 
her before, but of having loved her before. 
Love ! — mon Dieu ! — what a tame word it 
Li How poorly it expresses the actual 
emotion ! Fire in the veins — delirium in 
the brain — reason gone to chaos ! And this 
madness is mildly described as ‘ love ? ’ ” 

“There are other words for it,” said the 
Doctor. “ Words that are not so poetic, but 
which, perhaps, are more fitting.” 

“ No ! ” interrupted Gervase, almost fierce- 
ly. “ There are no words which truly de- 
scribe this one emotion which rules the 
world. I know what you mean, of course ; 
you mean evil words, licentious words, and 
yet it has nothing whatever to do with 
these. You cannot call such an exalted 
state of the nerves and sensations by an 
evil name.” 


248 


ZISKA 


Dr., Dean pondered the question for a few 
moments. 

“No, I am not sure that I can,” he said, 
meditatively. “If I did, I should have to 
give an evil name to the Creator who de- 
signed man and woman and ordained the 
law of attraction which draws, and often 
drags them together. I like to be fair to 
everybody, the Creator included; yet to be 
fair to everybody I shall appear to sanction 
immorality. For the fact is that our civili- 
zation has upset all the original intentions 
of nature. Nature evidently meant Love, 
or the emotion we call Love, to be the 
keynote of the universe. But apparently 
Nature did not intend marriage. The 
flowers, the birds, the lower animals, mate 
afresh every spring, and this is the creed 
that the disciples of Naturalism nowadays 
are anxious to force upon the attention of 
the world. It is only men and women, they 
say, that are so foolish as to take each other 
for better or worse till death do them part. 
Now, I should like, from the physical scien- 
tist’s point of view, to prove that the men 
and women are wrong, and that the lower 
animals are right ; but spiritual science 
comes in and confutes me. For in spiritual 
science I find this truth, which will not be 


ZISKA 


249 


gainsaid — namely, that from time imme- 
morial, certain immortal forms of Nature 
have been created solely for one another ; 
like two halves of a circle, they are intended 
to meet and form the perfect round, and all 
the elements of creation, spiritual and mate- 
rial, will work their hardest to pull them to- 
gether. Such natures, I consider, should 
absolutely and imperatively be joined in 
marriage. It then becomes a divine decree. 
Even grant, if you like, that the natures so 
joined are evil, and that the sympathy be- 
tween them is of a more or less reprehensi- 
ble character, it is quite as well that they 
should unite, and that the result of such an 
union should be seen. The evil might come 
out of them in a family of criminals which 
the law could exterminate with advantage 
to the world in general. Whereas on the 
other hand, given two fine and aspiring 
natures with perfect sympathy between 
them, as perfect as the two notes of a per- 
fect chord, the children of such a marriage 
would probably be as near gods as humanity 
could bring them. I speak as a scientist 
merely. Such consequences are not fore- 
seen by the majority, and marriages as a 
rule take place between persons who are by 
no means made for each other. Besides, a 


250 


ZISKA 


kind of devil comes into the business, and 
often prevents the two sympathetic natures 
conjoining. Love-matters alone are quite 
sufficient to convince me that there is a 
devil as well as a divinity that ‘ shapes our 
ends: ” 

“ You speak as if you yourself had loved, 
Doctor,” said Gervase, with a half smile. 

“And so I have,” replied the Doctor, 
calmly. “ I have loved to the full as passion- 
ately and ardently as even you can love. I 
thank God the woman I loved died, — I could 
never have possessed her, for she was already 
wedded, — and I would not have disgraced 
her by robbing her from her lawful husband. 
So Death stepped in and gave her to me — 
forever ! ” and he raised his eyes to the 
solemn starlit sky. “Yes, nothing can ever 
come between us now ; no demon tears her 
white soul from me ; she died innocent of 
evil, and she is mine — mine in every pulse of 
her being, as we shall both know hereafter ! ” 

His face, which was not remarkable for 
any beauty of feature, grew rapt and almost 
noble in its expression, and Gervase looked 
at him with a faint touch of ironical wonder. 

“ Upon my word, your morality almost 
outreaches your mysticism ! ” he said. “ I 
see you are one of those old-fashioned men 


ZISKA 


251 


who think marriage a sacred sort of thing 
and the only self-respecting form of love. ,, 

“ Old-fashioned I may be,” replied Dr. 
Dean ; “ but I certainly believe in marriage 
for the woman's sake. If the license of men 
were not restrained by some sort of barrier 
it would break all bounds. Now I, had I 
chosen, could have taken the woman I loved 
to myself ; it needed but a little skilful per- 
suasion on my part, for her husband was a 
drink-sodden ruffian . . .” 

“ And why, in the name of Heaven, did 
you not do so ? ” demanded Gervase impa- 
tiently. 

“ Because I know the end of all such 
liaisons ,” said the Doctor sadly. “ A month 
or two of delirious happiness, then years of 
remorse to follow. The man is lowered in 
his own secret estimation of himself, and the 
woman is hopelessly ruined, socially and 
morally. No, Death is far better ; and in 
my case Death has proved a good friend, for 
it has given me the spotless soul of the 
woman I loved, which is far fairer than her 
body was.” 

“ But, unfortunately, intangible ! ” said 
Gervase, satirically. 

The Doctor looked at him keenly and 
coldly. 


252 


ZISKA 


“ Do not be too sure of that, my friend ! 
Never talk about what you do not under- 
stand ; you only wander astray. The spirit- 
ual world is a blank to you, so do not pre- 
sume to judge of what you will never realize 
till realization is forced upon you ! ” 

He uttered the last words with slow and 
singular emphasis. 

“ Forced upon me?” began Gervase. 
“ What do you mean 

He broke off abruptly, for at that moment 
Denzil Murray emerged from the doorway 
of the hotel, and came towards them with an 
unsteady, swaying step like that of a drunken 
man. 

“You had better go in to the Princess,” 
he said, staring at Gervase with a wild smile ; 
“ she is waiting for you ! ” 

“ What's the matter with you, Denzil ? ” 
inquired Dr. Dean, catching him by the arm 
as he made a movement to go on and pass 
them. 

Denzil stopped, frowning impatiently. 

“Matter? Nothing! What should be 
the matter ? ” 

“ Oh, no offence ; no offence, my boy ! ” 
and Dr. Dean at once loosened his arm. “ I 
only thought you looked as if you had had 
some upset or worry, that’s all.” 


ZISKA 


253 


“ Climate ! climate ! ” said Denzil, hoarse- 
ly. “ Egypt does not agree with me, I 
suppose ! — the dryness of the soil breeds 
fever and a touch of madness ! Men are not 
blocks of wood or monoliths of stone ; they 
are creatures of flesh and blood, of nerve 
and muscle ; you cannot torture them 
so. . . 

He interrupted himself with a kind of 
breathless irritation at his own speech. 
Gervase regarded him steadily, slightly 
smiling. 

“ Torture them how, Denzil ?” asked the 
Doctor, kindly. “ Dear lad, you are talking 
nonsense. Come and stroll with me up and 
down ; the air is quite balmy and delightful ; 
it will cool your brain.” 

“ Yes, it needs cooling! ” retorted Denzil, 
beginning to laugh with a sort of wild hilarity. 
“Too much wine, — too much woman, — too 
much of these musty old-world records and 
ghastly pyramids ! ” 

Here he broke off, adding quickly : 

“ Doctor, Helen and I will go back to 
England next week, if all is well.” 

“ Why, certainly, certainly ! ” said Dr. 
Dean, soothingly. “ I think we are all begin- 
ning to feel we have had enough of Egypt. I 
shall probably return home with you. Mean- 


254 


ZISKA 


while, come for a stroll and talk to me ; Mon- 
sieur Armand Gervase will perhaps go in and 
excuse us for a few minutes to the Princess 
Ziska.” 

“ With pleasure ! ” said Gervase ; then, 
beckoning Denzil Murray aside, he whis- 
pered : 

“ Tell me, have you won or lost ? 99 

“ Lost I'* replied Denzil, fiercely, through 
his set teeth. “ It is your turn now ! But, 
if you win, as sure as there is a God above 
us, I will kill you ! ” 

“ Soit ! But not till I am ready for kill- 
ing! After to-morrow night I shall be at 
your service, not till then ! ” 

And smiling coldly, his dark face looking 
singularly pale and stern in the moonlight, 
Gervase turned away, and, walking with his 
usual light, swift, yet leisurely tread, entered 
the Princess’s apartment by the French win- 
dow which was still open, and from which 
the sound of sweet music came floating deli- 
ciously on the air as he disappeared. 


ZISKA 


255 


CHAPTER XIV. 

In a half-reclining attitude of indolently 
graceful ease, the Princess Ziska watched 
from beneath the slumbrous shadow of her 
long-fringed eyelids the approach of her 
now scarcely -to-be controlled lover. He 
came towards her with a certain impetuosity 
of movement which was so far removed from 
ordinary conventionality as to be wholly 
admirable from the purely picturesque point 
of view, despite the fact that it expressed 
more passion and impatience than were 
in keeping with nineteenth-century customs 
and manners. He had almost reached her 
side before he became aware that there 
were two other women in the room besides 
the Princess, — silent, veiled figures that sat, 
or rather crouched, on the floor, holding 
quaintly carved and inlaid musical instru- 
ments of some antique date in their hands, 
the only sign of life about them being their 
large, dark, glistening almond-shaped eyes, 
which were every now and then raised and 


256 


ZISKA. 


fixed on Gervase with an intense and search- 
ing look of inquiry. Strangely embarrassed 
by their glances, he addressed the Princess 
in a low tone : 

44 Will you not send away your women?” 

She smiled. 

44 Yes, presently; if you wish it, I will. 
But you must hear some music first. Sit 
down there/' and she pointed with her 
small jewelled hand to a low chair near her 
own. 44 My lutist shall sing you something, 
— in English, of course ! — for all the world 
is being Anglicized by degrees, and there 
will soon be no separate nations left. Some- 
thing, too, of romantic southern passion is 
being gradually grafted on to English senti- 
ment, so that English songs are not so stupid 
as they were once. I translated some stanzas 
from one of the old Egyptian poets into 
English the other day, perhaps you will like 
them. Myrmentis, sing us the 4 Song of 
Darkness/ ” 

An odd sensation of familiarity with the 
name of 44 Myrmentis ” startled Gervase as 
he heard it pronounced, and he looked at 
the girl who was so called in a kind of dread. 
But she did not meet his questioning re- 
gard, — she was already bending over her lute 
and tuning its strings, while her companion 


ZISKA 


257 


likewise prepared to accompany her on a 
similar though larger instrument, and in an- 
other moment her voice, full and rich, with 
a sobbing passion in it which thrilled him 
to the inmost soul, rang out on the warm 
silence : 

In the darkness what deeds are done ! 

What wild words spoken ! 

What joys are tasted, what passion wasted ! 

What hearts are broken ! 

Not a glimpse of the moon shall shine, 

Not a star shall mark 
The passing of night, — or shed its light 
On my Dream of the Dark ! 

On the scented and slumbrous air, 

Strange thoughts are thronging ; 

And a blind desire more fierce than fire 
Fills the soul with longing ; 

Through the silence heavy and sweet 
Comes the panting breath 
Of a lover unseen from the Might-Have-Been, 
Whose loving is Death ! 

In the darkness a deed was done, 

A wild word spoken ! 

A joy was tasted, — a passion wasted, — 

A heart was broken ! 

Not a glimpse of the moon shall shine, 

Not a star shall mark 
The passing of night, — or shed its light 
On my Dream of the Dark ! 

The song died away in a shuddering echo, 

i7 


258 


ZISKA 


and before Gervase had time to raise his 
eyes from their brooding study of the floor 
the singer and her companion had noiselessly 
disappeared, and he was left alone with the 
Princess Ziska. He drew along breath, and 
turning fully round in his chair, looked at 
her steadily. There was a faint smile on her 
lips — a smile of mingled mockery and tri- 
umph, — her beautiful witch-like eyes glit- 
tered. Leaning towards her, he grasped her 
hands suddenly in his own. 

“ Now,” he whispered, “ shall I speak or 
be silent ? ” 

“ Whichever you please,” she responded 
composedly, still smiling. “ Speech or si- 
lence rest equally with yourself. I compel 
neither.” 

“ That is false ! ” he said passionately. 
“ You do compel ! Your eyes drag my very 
soul out of me — your touch drives me into 
frenzy! You temptress ! You force me to 
speak, though you know already what I have 
to say ! That I love you, love you ! And 
that you love me ! That your whole life 
leaps to mine as mine to yours ! You know 
all this ; if I were stricken dumb, you could 
read it in my face, but you will have it 
spoken — you will extort from me the whole 
secret of my madness ! — yes, for you to take 


ZISKA 


259 

a cruel joy In knowing that I am mad — mad 
for the love of you ! And you cannot be 
too often or too thoroughly assured that 
your own passion finds its reflex in me ! ” 

He paused, abruptly checked in his wild 
words by the sound of her low, sweet, chill 
laughter. She withdrew her hands from his 
burning grasp. 

“ My dear friend/’ she said lightly, “ you 
really have a very excellent opinion of your- 
self — excuse me for saying so ! ‘ My own 

passion ! ’ Do you actually suppose I have 
a ‘ passion 9 for you ? 99 And rising from her 
chair, she drew up her slim supple figure to 
its full height and looked at him with an 
amused and airy scorn. “You are totally 
mistaken ! No one man living can move 
me to love ; I know all men too well ! Their 
natures are uniformly composed of the same 
mixture of cruelty, lust and selfishness ; and 
forever and forever, through all the ages 
of the world, they use the greater part of 
their intellectual abilities in devising new 
ways to condone and conceal their vices. 
You call me 4 temptress ’ ; — why ? The 
temptation, if any there be, emanates from 
yourself and your own unbridled desires ; I 
do nothing. I am made as I am made; if 
my face or my form seems fair in your eyes, 


26 o 


ZISKA 


this is not my fault. Your glance lights on 
me, as the hawk’s lights on coveted prey ; 
but think you the prey loves the hawk in 
response ? It is the mistake all men make 
with all women, — to judge them always as 
being of the same base material as them- 
selves. Some women there are who shame 
their womanhood; but the majority, as a 
rule, preserve their self-respect till taught 
by men to lose it.” 

Gervase sprang up and faced her, his eyes 
flashing dangerously. 

“ Do not make any pretence with me!” 
he said half angrily. “ Never tell me you 
cannot love ! . . .” 

“ I have loved ! ” she interrupted him. 
“ As true women love, — once, and only once. 
It suffices ; not for one lifetime, but many. 
I loved ; and gave myself ungrudgingly and 
trustingly to the man my soul worshipped. 
I was betrayed, of course ! — it is the usual 
story — quite old, quite commonplace ! I 
can tell it to you without so much as ablush 
of pain ! Since then I have not loved, — I 
have hated ; and I live but for one thing — 
Revenge.” 

Her face paled as she spoke, and a some- 
thing vague, dark, spectral and terrible 
seemed to enfold her like a cloud where she 


ZISKA 


26 i 


stood. Anon she smiled sweetly, and with 
a bewitching provocativeness. 

“Your 'passion/ you see, my friend 
awakens ra.ther a singular ' reflex ’ in me ! — 
not quite of the nature you imagined ! ” 

He remained for a moment inert ; then, 
with an almost savage boldness, threw his 
arm about her. 

“ Have everything your own way, Ziska ! ” 
he said in quick, fierce accents. “ I will ac- 
cept all your fancies, and humor all your 
caprices. I will grant that you do not love 
me — I will even suppose that I am repellent 
to you, — but that shall make no difference 
to my desire! You shall be mine! — willing 
or unwilling! If every kiss I take from your 
lips be torn from you with reluctance, yet 
those kisses I will have ! — you shall not 
escape me ! You — you, out of all women in 
the world, I choose . . 

“ As your wife ? ” said Ziska slowly, her 
dark eyes gleaming with a strange light as 
she dexterously withdrew herself from his 
embrace. 

He uttered an impatient exclamation. 

“ My wife ! Dieu ! What a banality ! 
You, with your exquisite, glowing beauty 
and voluptuous charm, you would be a ‘ wife * 
— that tiresome figure-head of utterly dull 


262 


ZISKA 


respectability? You, with your unmatched 
air of wild grace and freedom, would submit 
to be tied down in the bonds of marriage, — 
marriage, which to my thinking and that of 
many other men of my character, is one of 
the many curses of this idiotic nineteenth 
century! No, I offer you love, Ziska! — 
ideal, passionate love ! — the glowing, raptur- 
ous dream of ecstasy in which such a thing 
as marriage would be impossible, the merest 
vulgar commonplace — almost a profanity.” 

“ I understand ! ” and the Princess Ziska 
regarded him intently, her breath coming 
and going, and a strange smile quivering on 
her lips. “ You would play the part of an 
Araxes over again ! ” 

He smiled ; and with all the audacity of 
a bold and determined nature, put his arms 
round her and drew her close up to his 
breast. 

“Yes,” he said, “I would play the part 
of an Araxes over again ! ” 

As he uttered the words, an indescribable 
sensation of horror seized him — a mist dark- 
ened his sight, his blood grew cold, and a 
tremor shook him from head to foot. The 
fair woman's face that was lifted so close to 
his own seemed spectral and far off ; and for 
a fleeting moment her very beauty grew into 


ZISKA 


263 


something like hideousness, as if the strange 
effect of the picture he had painted of her 
was now becoming actual and apparent — 
namely, the face of death looking through 
the mask of life. Yet he did not loosen his 
arms from about her waist ; on the contrary 
he clasped her even more closely, and kept 
his eyes fixed upon her with such pertinacity 
that it seemed as if he expected her to van- 
ish from his sight while he still held her. 

“ To play the part of an Araxes aright,” 
she murmured then in slow and dulcet ac- 
cents, “you would need to be cruel and 
remorseless, and sacrifice my life — or any 
woman’s life — to your own clamorous and 
selfish passion. But you, — Armand Gervase, 
— educated, civilized, intellectual, and totally 
unlike the barbaric Araxes, could not do that, 
could you ? The progress of the world, the 
increasing intelligence of humanity, the com- 
ing of the Christ, these things are surely of 
some weight with you, are they not? Or 
are you made of the same savage and im- 
penitent stuff as composed the once famous 
yet brutal warrior of old time ? Do you 
admire the character and spirit of Araxes ? — 
he who, if history reports him truly, would 
snatch a woman’s life as though it were a 
wayside flower, crush out all its sweetness 


264 


ZISKA 


and delicacy, and then fling it into the dust 
withered and dead ? Do you think that 
because a man is strong and famous, he has 
a right to the love of woman ? — a charter to 
destroy her as he pleases ? If you remember 
the story I told you, Araxes murdered with 
his own hand Ziska-Charmazel the woman 
who loved him.” 

“He had perhaps grown weary of her,” 
said Gervase, speaking with an effort, and 
still studying the exquisite loveliness of the 
bewitching face that was so close to his own, 
like a man in a dream. 

At this she laughed, and laid her two 
hands on his shoulders with a close and cling- 
ing clasp which thrilled him strangely. 

“ Ah, there is the difficulty ! ” she said. 

“ What cure shall ever be found for love- 
weariness ? Men are all like children — they 
tire of their toys ; hence the frequent trouble 
and discomfort of marriage. They grow 
weary of the same face, the same caressing 
arms, the same faithful heart ! You, for in- 
stance, would grow weary of me ! ” 

“ I think not,” answered Gervase. And 
now the vague sense of uncertainty and pain 
which had distressed him passed away, leav- 
ing him fully self-possessed once more. “ I 
think you are one of those exceptional 


ZISKA 


265 


women whom a man never grows weary of : 
like a Cleopatra, on any other old-world 
enchantress, you fascinate with a look, you 
fasten with a touch, and you have a singular 
freshness and wild attraction about you which 
makes you unlike any other of your sex. I 
know well enough that I shall never get the 
memory of you out of my brain ; your face 
will haunt me till I die ! ” 

“ And after death ? ” she queried, half-clos- 
ing her eyes, and regarding him languorously 
through her silky black lashes. 

“ Ah, ma belle , after that there is nothing 
to be done even in the way of love. Tout 
est fini ! Considering the brevity of life and 
the absolute certainty of death, I think that 
the men and women who are so foolish as to 
miss any opportunities of enjoyment while 
they are alive deserve more punishment than 
those who take all they can get, even in the 
line of what is called wickedness. Wicked- 
ness is a curious thing: it takes different 
shapes in different lands, and what is called 
1 wicked ’ here, is virtue in, let us say, the Fiji 
Islands. There is really no strict rule of con- 
duct in the world, no fixed law of morality.” 

“ There is honor ! ” said the Princess, 
slowly ; — “ A code which even savages recog- 
nize.” 


266 


ZISKA 


He was silent. For a moment he seemed 
to hesitate ; but his indecision soon passed. 
His face flushed, and anon grew pale, as 
closing his arms more victoriously round the 
fair woman who just then appeared volun- 
tarily to yield to his embrace, he bent down 
and whispered a few words in the tiny ear, 
white and delicate as a shell, which was half- 
hidden by the rich loose clusters of her 
luxuriant hair. She heard, and smiled ; and 
her eyes flashed with a singular ferocity which 
he did not see, otherwise it might have 
startled him. 

“ I will answer you to-morrow,’’ she said. 
“ Be patient till then.” 

And as she spoke, she released herself 
determinedly from the clasp of his arms and 
withdrew to a little distance, looking at him 
with a fixed and searching scrutiny. 

“ Do not preach patience to me ! ” he ex- 
claimed with a laugh. “ I never had that 
virtue, and I certainly cannot begin to culti- 
vate it now.” 

“ Had you ever any virtues ? ” she asked 
in a playful tone of something like satire. 

He shrugged his shoulders. 

“ I do not know what you consider virtues,” 
he answered lightly: “ If honesty is one, I 
have that. I make no pretence to be what 


ZISKA 


267 


I am not. I would not pass off somebody 
else’s picture as my own, for instance. But 
I cannot sham to be moral. I could not 
possibly love a woman without wanting her 
all to myself, and I have not the slightest 
belief in the sanctimonious humbug of a man 
who plays the Platonic lover only. But I 
don’t cheat, and I don’t lie. I am what 
lam... .” 

“ A man ! ” said Ziska, a lurid and vin- 
dictive light dilating and firing her wonderful 
eyes. “ A man ! — the essence of all that is 
evil, the possibility of all that is good ! But 
the essence is strong and works ; the possi- 
bility is a dream which dissolves in the 
dreaming ! ” 

“Yes, you are right, ma chtre ! ” he re- 
sponded carelessly. “ Goodness — as the 
world understands goodness — never makes 
a career for itself worth anything. Even 
Christ, who has figured as a symbol of good- 
ness for eighteen hundred years, was not 
devoid of the sin of ambition : He wanted to 
reign over all Judaea.” 

“You view Him in that light ? ” inquired 
Ziska with a keen look. “ And as man only ? ” 

“ Why, of course ! The idea of an incar- 
nate God has long ago been discarded by 
all reasoning thinkers.” 


268 


ZISKA 


“ And what of an incarnate devil ? ” pur- 
sued Ziska, her breath coming and going 
quickly. 

“As impossible as the other fancy !” he 
responded almost gayly. “ There are no gods 
and no devils, ma belle ! The world is ruled 
by ourselves alone, and it behoves us to 
make the best of it. How will you give me 
my answer to-morrow ? When shall I see 
you ? Speak low and quickly, — Dr. Dean is 
coming in here from the garden : when — 
when ? ” 

“ I will send for you,” she answered. 

“ At what hour? ” 

“ The moon rises at ten. And at ten my 
messenger shall come for you.” 

“ A trustworthy messenger, I hope ? One 
who knows how to be silent ? ” 

“ As silent as the grave ! ” she said, look- 
ing at him fixedly. “ As secret as the Great 
Pyramid and the hidden tomb of Araxes ! ” 

And smiling, she turned to greet Dr. Dean, 
who just then entered the saloon. 

“ Denzil has gone to bed,” he announced. 
“ He begged me to excuse him to you, 
Princess. I think the boy is feverish. Egypt 
doesn’t agree with him.” 

“ I am sorry he is ill,” said the Princess 
with a charming air of sympathy. 


ZISKA 


269 


“ Oh, he isn’t exactly ill,” returned the 
Doctor, looking sharply at her beautiful face 
as he spoke. “ He is simply unnerved and 
restless. I am a little anxious about him. 
I think he ought to go back to England — 
or Scotland.” 

“ I think so, too,” agreed Gervase. “ And 
Mademoiselle Helen with him.” 

“ Mademoiselle Helen you consider very 
beautiful?” murmured the Princess, unfurl- 
ing her fan and waving it indolently to and 
fro. 

“ No, not beautiful,” answered the Doctor 
quickly. “ But very pretty, sweet and 
lovable — and good.” 

“ Ah then, of course some one will break 
her heart ! ” said the Princess calmly. “ That 
is what always happens to good women.” 

And she smiled as she saw Gervase flush, 
half with anger, half with shame. The little 
Doctor rubbed his nose crossly. 

“ Not always, Princess,” he said. “ Some- 
times it does ; in fact pretty often. It is an 
unfortunate truth that virtue is seldom re- 
warded in this world. Virtue in a woman 
nowadays ” 

“ Means no lovers and no fun ! ” said Ger- 
vase gayly. “ And the possibility of a highly 
decorous marriage with a curate or a bank- 


270 


ZISKA 


clerk, followed by the pleasing result of a 
family of little curates or little bank-clerks. 
It is not a dazzling prospect ! ” 

The Doctor smiled grimly ; then after a 
wavering moment of indecision, broke out 
into a chuckling laugh. 

“ You have an odd way of putting things,” 
he said. “ But I’m afraid you may be right 
in your estimate of the position. Quite as 
many women are as miserably sacrificed on 
the altar of virtue as of vice. It is ‘a mad 
world/ as Shakespeare says. I hope the 
next life we pass into after this one will at 
least be sane.” 

“ Well, if you believe in Heaven, you have 
Testament authority for the fact that there 
will be ‘ neither marriage nor giving in mar- 
riage ’ there, at any rate,” laughed Gervase. 
“And if we wish to follow that text out 
truly in our present state of existence and 
become ‘ as the angels of God 9 we ought at 
once to abolish matrimony.” 

“Have done! Have done!” exclaimed 
the Doctor, still smiling, however, notwith- 
standing his protest. “ You Southern 
Frenchmen are half barbarians, — you have 
neither religion nor morality.” 

“ Dieu merci ! ” said Gervase, irreverently ; 
then turning to the Princess Ziska, he bowed 


ZISKA 


271 


low and with a courtly grace over the hand 
she extended towards him in farewell. 
“ Good-night, Princess ! ” — then in a whisper 
he added : “ To-morrow I shall await your 
summons.” 

“ It will come without fail, never fear ! ” 
she answered in equally soft tones. “ I hope 
it may find you ready.” 

He raised his eyes and gave her one 
tong, lingering, passionate look ; then with 
another “ Good-night,” which included Dr. 
Dean, left the room. The Doctor lingered 
a moment, studying the face and form of 
'the Princess * with a curiously inquisitive 
air; while she in her turn confronted him 
haughtily, and with a touch of defiance in 
her aspect. 

“ Well,” said the savant presently, after 
a pause : “ Now you have got him, what are 
you going to do with him ? ” 

She smiled coldly, but answered nothing. 

“You need not flash your beautiful eyes 
at me in that eminently unpleasant fashion,” 
pursued the Doctor, easily. “You see I 
know you, and I am not afraid of you. I 
only make a stand against you in one re- 
spect : you shall not kill the boy Denzil.” 

“ He is nothing to me ! ” she said, with a 
gesture of contempt. 


272 


ZISKA 


“ I know he is nothing to you ; but you 
are something to him. He does not recog- 
nize your nature as I do. I must get him 
out of the reach of your spell ” 

“ You need not trouble yourself,” she in- 
terrupted him, a sombre melancholy darken- 
ing her face ; “ I shall be gone to-morrow.” 

“ Gone altogether?” inquired the Doctor 
calmly and without surprise, — “ Not to come 
back?” 

“ Not in this present generation ! ” she 
answered. 

Still Dr. Dean evinced no surprise. 

“ Then you will have satisfied yourself ? ” 
he asked. 

She bent her head. 

“ For the time being — yes ! I shall have 
satisfied myself.” 

There followed a silence, during which the 
little Doctor looked at his beautiful com- 
panion with all the meditative interest of a 
scientist engaged in working out some intri- 
cate and deeply interesting problem. 

“I suppose I may not inquire how you 
propose to obtain this satisfaction ? ” he said. 

“ You may inquire, but you will not be 
answered ! ” she retorted, smiling darkly. 

“ Your intentions are pitiless ? ” 

Still smiling, she said not a word. 


ZISKA 


273 


“You are impenitent ? ” 

She remained silent. 

“ And, worst of all, you do not desire 
redemption ! You are one of those who for- 
ever and ever cry, i Evil, be thou my good ! ’ 
Thus for you, Christ died in vain ! ” 

A faint tremor ran through her, but she 
was still mute. 

“ So you and creatures like you, must 
have their way in the world until the end,” 
concluded the Doctor, thoughtfully. “ And 
if all the philosophers that ever lived were 
to pronounce you what you are, they would 
be disbelieved and condemned as madmen ! 
Well, Princess, I am glad I have never at 
any time crossed your path till now, or 
given you cause of offence against me. We 
part friends, I trust? Good-night! Fare- 
well!” 

She held out her hand. He hesitated 
before taking it. 

“ Are you afraid ? ” she queried coldly. 
“ It will not harm you ! ” 

“ I am afraid of nothing,” he said, at once 
clasping the white taper fingers in his own, 
“except a bad conscience.” 

“ That will never trouble you ! ” and the 
Princess looked at him full and steadily. 
“ There are no dark corners in your life — no 
18 


274 


ZISKA 


mean side-alleys and trap-holes of deceit; 
you have walked on the open and straight 
road. You are a good man and a wise one. 
But though you, in your knowledge of spirit- 
ual things, recognize me for what I am, take 
my advice and be silent on the matter. The 
world would never believe the truth, even if 
you told it, for the time is not yet ripe for 
men and women to recognize the avengers of 
their wicked deeds. They are kept pur- 
posely in the dark lest the light should kill ! ” 
And with her sombre eyes darkening, yet 
glowing with the inward fire that always 
smouldered in their dazzling depths, she 
saluted him gravely and gracefully, watching 
him to the last as he slowly withdrew. 


ZISKA 


275 


CHAPTER XV. 

The next day broke with a bright, hot 
glare over the wide desert, and the sky in its 
cloudless burning blue had more than its 
usual appearance of limitless and awful 
immensity. The Sphinx and the Pyramids 
alone gave a shadow and a substance to the 
dazzling and transparent air, — all the rest of 
the visible landscape seemed naught save 
a far-stretching ocean of glittering sand, 
scorched by the blazing sun. Dr. Maxwell 
Dean rose early and went down to the hotel 
breakfast in a somewhat depressed frame of 
mind ; he had slept badly, and his dreams had 
been unpleasant, when not actually ghastly, 
and he was considerably relieved, though he 
could not have told why, when he saw his 
young friend Denzil Murray, seated at the 
breakfast table, apparently enjoying an ex- 
cellent meal. 

“ Hullo, Denzil ! ” he exclaimed cheerily, 
“ I hardly expected you down yet. Are 
you better ? ” 


276 


ZISKA 


“ Thanks, I am perfectly well,” said Denzil, 
with a careless air. I thought I would break- 
fast early in order to drive into Cairo before 
the day gets too sultry.” 

“ Into Cairo ! ” echoed the Doctor. “ Why, 
aren't you going to stay here a few days ? ” 

“ No, not exactly,” answered Denzil, stir- 
ring his coffee quickly and beginning to 
swallow it in large gulps. “ I shall be back 
to-night, though. I’m only going just to see 
my sister and tell her to prepare for our 
journey home. I shan’t be absent more than 
a few hours.” 

“ I thought you might possibly like to go 
a little further up the Nile?” suggested the 
Doctor. 

“ Oh, no, I ’ve had enough of it ! You see, 
when a man proposes to a woman and gets 
refused, he can’t keep on dangling round that 
woman as if he thought it possible she might 
change her mind.” And he forced a smile. 
“ I’ve got an appointment with Gervase 
to-morrow morning, and I must come back 
to-night in order to keep it — but after that 
I’m off.” 

“ An appointment with Gervase ? ” re- 
peated the Doctor, slowly. “ What sort of 
an appointment? ” 

Denzil avoided his keen look. 


ZISKA 


277 


“ Really, Doctor, you are getting awfully 
inquisitive ! ”he exclaimed with a hard laugh. 
“ You want to know altogether too much ! ” 

“Yes, I always do ; it is a habit of mine,” 
responded Dr. Dean, calmly. “ But in the 
present case, it doesn’t need much perspicuity 
to fathom your mystery. The dullest clod- 
hopper will tell you he can see through a 
millstone when there’s a hole in it. And I 
was always a good hand at putting two and 
two together and making four out of them. 
You and Gervase are in love with the same 
woman ; the woman has rejected you and is 
encouraging Gervase ; Gervase, you think, 
will on this very night be in the position of 
the accepted lover, for which successful for- 
tune attending him, you, the rejected one, 
propose to kill him to-morrow morning if you 
can, unless he kills you. And you are going 
to Cairo to get your pistols or whatever 
weapons you have arranged to fight with, 
and also to say good-bye to your sister.” 

Denzil kept his eyes fixed studiously on 
the table-cloth and made no answer. 

“ However,” continued the Doctor com- 
placently, “ you can have it all your own 
way as far as I am concerned. I never inter- 
fere in these sort of matters. I should do no 
good if I attempted it. Besides, I haven’t 


278 


ZISKA 


the slightest anxiety on your behalf — not 
the slightest. Waiter, some more coffee, 
please ? ” 

“ Upon my word ! ” exclaimed Denzil, 
with a fretful laugh, “ you are a most ex- 
traordinary man, Doctor ! ” 

“ I hope I am ! ” retorted the Doctor. 
“To be merely ordinary would not suit my 
line of ambition. This is very excellent 
coffee ” — here he peered into the fresh pot 
of the fragrant beverage just set before him. 
“ They make it better here than at the Gezireh 
Palace. Well, Denzil, my boy, when you get 
into Cairo, give my love to Helen and tell 
her we’ll all go home to the old country 
together ; I, myself, have got quite enough 
out of Egypt this time to satisfy my fondness 
for new experiences. And let me assure you, 
my good fellow, that your proposed duel with 
Gervase will not come off ! ” 

“ It will come off ! ” said Denzil, with 
sudden fierceness. “ By Heaven, it shall ! — 
it must ! ” 

“ More wills than one have the working 
out of our destinies,” answered Dr. Dean 
with some gravity. “ Man is not by any 
means supreme. He imagines he is, but that 
is only one of his many little delusions. You 
think you will have your way ; Gervase thinks 


ZISKA 


279 


he will have his way ; I think I will have my 
way ; but as a matter of fact there is only 
one person in this affair whose ‘ way * will 
be absolute, and that person is the Princess 
Ziska. Ce que femme veut Dien veut .” 

“ She has nothing whatever to do with the 
matter,” declared Denzil. 

“ Pardon ! She has everything to do with 
it. She is the cause of it and she knows it. 
And as I have already told you, your pro- 
posed fight will not come off.” And the 
little Doctor smiled serenely. “ There is 
your carriage at the door, I suppose* Off 
with you, my boy ! — be off like a whirlwind, 
and return here armed to the teeth if you 
like ! You have heard the expression ‘ fight- 
ing the air’ ? That is what you will do to- 
morrow morning ! ” 

And apparently in the best of all possible 
humors, Dr. Dean accompanied his young 
friend to the portico of the hotel and watched 
him drive off down the stately avenue of 
palm-trees which now cast their refreshing 
shade on the entire route from the Pyramids 
to Cairo. When he had fairly gone, the 
thoughtful savant surveyed the different 
tourists who were preparing to ascend the 
Pyramids under the escort of their Arab 
guides, regardless of the risks they ran of 


280 


ZISKA 


dislocated arms and broken shoulder-bones, 
— and in the study of the various odd types 
thus presented to him, he found himself fairly 
well amused, 

“ Protoplasm — mere protoplasm ! ” he 
murmured. “ The germ of soul has not yet 
attained to individual consciousness in any 
one of these strange bipeds. Their thoughts 
are as jelly, — their reasoning powers in em- 
bryo, — their intellectual faculties barely per- 
ceptible. Yet they are interesting, viewed in 
the same light and considered on the same 
scale as fish or insects merely. As men and 
women of course they are misnomers, — laugh- 
able impossibilities. Well, well ! — in the 
space of two or three thousand years, the pro- 
toplasm may start into form out of the void, 
and the fibres of a conscious Intellectuality 
may sprout, — but it will have to be in some 
other phase of existence — certainly not in 
this one. And now to shut myself up and 
write my memoranda — for I must not lose a 
single detail of this singular Egyptian psychic 
problem. The whole thing I perceive is 
rounding itself towards completion and ca- 
tastrophe — but in what way ? How will 
it — how can it end ? ” 

And with a meditative frown puckering 
his brows, Dr. Dean folded his hands behind 


ZISKA. 


281 

his back and retired to his own room, from 
whence he did not emerge all day. 

Armand Gervase in the meanwhile was 
making himself the life and soul of every- 
thing at the Mena House Hotel. He struck 
up an easy acquaintance with several of the 
visitors staying there, — said pretty things to 
young women and pleasant things to old, — 
and in the course of a few hours succeeded 
in becoming the most popular personage in 
the place. He accepted invitations to par- 
ties, and agreed to share in various excur- 
sions, till he engaged himself for every day 
in the coming week, and was so gay and 
gallant and fascinating in manner and bear- 
ing that fair ladies lost their hearts to him 
at a glance, and what amusement or pleas- 
ure there was at the Mena House seemed 
to be doubly enhanced by the mere fact of 
his presence. In truth Gervase was in 
a singular mood of elation and excitation ; a 
strong inward triumph possessed him and 
filled his soul with an imperious pride and 
sense of conquest which, for the time being, 
made him feel as though he were a very 
king of men. There was nothing in his 
nature of the noble tenderness which makes 
the lover mentally exalt his beloved as a 
queen before whom he is content to sub- 


282 


ZISKA 


mit his whole soul in worship ; what he 
realized was merely this : that here was one 
of the most beautiful and seductive women 
ever created, in the person of the Princess 
Ziska, and that he, Gervase, meant to pos- 
sess that loveliest of women, whatever hap- 
pened in the near or distant future. Of 
her, and of the influence of his passion on 
her personally, he did not stop to think, 
except with the curiously blind egotism 
which is the heritage of most men, and 
which led him to judge that her happiness 
would in some way or other be enhanced 
by his brief and fickle love. For, as a rule, 
men do not understand love. They under- 
stand desire, amounting sometimes to mer- 
ciless covetousness for what they cannot 
get, — this is a leading natural characteristic 
of the masculine nature — but Love — love 
that endures silently and faithfully through 
the stress of trouble and the passing of 
years — love which sacrifices everything to 
the beloved and never changes or falters, — 
this is a divine passion which seldom or 
never sanctifies and inspires the life of a 
man. Women are not made of such base 
material ; their love invariably springs first 
from the Ideal, not the Sensual, and if after- 
wards it develops into the sensual, it is 


ZISKA 283 

through the rough and coarsening touch of 
man alone. 

Throughout the entire day the Princess 
Ziska herself never left her private apart- 
ments, and towards late afternoon Gervase 
began to feel the hours drag along with 
unconscionable slowness and monotony. 
Never did the sun seem so slow in sinking; 
never did the night appear so far off. When 
at last dinner was served in the hotel, both 
Denzil Murray and Dr. Dean sat next to 
him at table, and, judging from outward 
appearances, the most friendly relations ex- 
isted between all three of them. At the 
close of the meal, however, Denzil made a 
sign to Gervase to follow him, and when 
they had reached a quiet corner, said : 

“ I am aware of your victory ; you have 
won where I have lost. But you know my 
intention ? ” 

“ Perfectly ! ” responded Gervase, with a 
cool smile. 

“ By Heaven ! ” went on the younger man, 
in accents of suppressed fury, “ if I yielded 
to the temptation which besets me when I 
see you standing there facing me, with your 
easy and self-satisfied demeanor, — when I 
know that you mean dishonor where I meant 
honor, — when you have had the effrontery 


284 


ZISKA 


to confess to me that you only intend to 
make the Princess Ziska your mistress when 
I would have made her my wife, — God ! I 
could shoot you dead at this moment ! ” 

Gervase looked at him steadily, still smil- 
ing slightly ; then gradually the smile died 
away, leaving his countenance shadowed by 
an intense melancholy. 

“ I can quite enter into your feelings, my 
dear boy ! ” he said. “ And do you know, 
I’m not sure that it would not be a good 
thing if you were to shoot me dead ! My 
life is of no particular value to anybody, — 
certainly not to myself ; and I begin to think 
I’ve been always more or less of a failure. 
I have won fame, but I have missed — some- 
thing — but upon my word, I don’t quite 
know what ! ” 

He sighed heavily, then suddenly held 
out his hand. 

“ Denzil, the bitterest foes shake hands 
before fighting each other to the death, as 
we propose to do to-morrow; it is a civil 
custom and hurts no one. I should like to 
part kindly from you to-night ! ” 

Denzil hesitated ; then something stronger 
than himself made him yield to the impulsive 
note of strong emotion in his former friend’s 
voice, and the two men’s hands met in a 


ZISKA 285 

momentary silent grasp. Then Denzil turned 
quickly away. 

“ To-morrow morning at six,” he said, 
briefly ; “ close to the Sphinx.” 

“ Good ! ” responded Gervase. “ The 
Sphinx shall second us both and see fair 
play. Good-night, Denzil ! ” 

“ Good-night ! ” responded Denzil, coldly, 
as he moved on and disappeared. 

A slight shiver ran through Gervase’s 
blood as he watched him depart. 

“ Odd that I should imagine I have seen 
the last of him ! ” he murmured. “ There 
are strange portents in the air of the desert, 
I suppose ! Is he going to his death ? Or 
am I going to mine? ” 

Again the cold tremor shook him, and 
combating with his uneasy sensations, he 
went to his own apartment, there to await 
the expected summons of the Princess. No 
triumph filled him now; no sense of joy 
elated him ; a vague fear and dull forebod- 
ing were all the emotions he was conscious 
of. Even his impatient desire of love had 
cooled, and he watched the darkening of 
night over the desert, and the stars shining out 
one by one in the black azure of the heavens, 
with a gradually deepening depression. A 
dreamy sense stole over him of remoteness 


286 


ZISKA 


or detachment from all visible things, as 
though he were suddenly and mysteriously 
separated from the rest of humankind by 
an invisible force which he was powerless to 
resist. He was still lost in this vague half- 
torpor or semi-conscious reverie, when a 
light tap startled him back to the realization 
of earth and his earthly surroundings. In 
response to his “ Entrez ! ” the tall Nubian, 
whom he had seen in Cairo as the guardian 
of the Princess’s household, appeared, his 
repulsive features looking, if anything, more 
ghastly and hideous than ever. 

“ Madame la Princesse demande votre 
presence ! ” said this unlovely attendant of 
one of the fairest of women. “ Suivez-moi ! ” 

Without a moment’s hesitation or loss 
of time, Gervase obeyed, and allowing his 
guide to precede him at a little distance, 
followed him through the corridors of the 
hotel, out at the hall door and beyond, 
through the garden. A clock struck ten as 
they passed into the warm evening air, and 
the mellow rays of the moon were beginning 
to whiten the sides of the Great Pyramid. 
A few of the people staying in the hotel 
were lounging about, but these paid no partic- 
ular heed to Gervase or his companion. At 
about two hundred yards from the entrance 


ZISKA 287 

of the Mena House, the Nubian stopped and 
waited till Gervase came up with him. 

“ Madame la Princesse vous aime, Monsieur 
Gervase !” he said, with a sarcastic grin. 
“ Mais, — elle veut que V Amour soil toujour s 
aveugle ! oui , toujours ! C est le destin qui 
vous appelle , — il faut soumettre ! L Amour 
sans yeux ! oui ! — enfin, — comme ga ! ” 

And before Gervase could utter a word 
of protest, or demand the meaning of this 
strange proceeding, his arms was suddenly 
seized and pinioned behind his back, his 
mouth gagged, and his eyes blindfolded. 

M u aintenant y ” continued the Nubian. 
“ Nous irons ensemble ! ” 

Choked and mad with rage, Gervase for a 
few moments struggled furiously as well as 
he was able with his powerful captor. All 
sorts of ideas surged in his brain : the Prin- 
cess Ziska might, with all her beauty and 
fascination, be nothing but the ruler of a band 
of robbers and murderers — who could tell? 
Yet reason did not wholly desert him in ex- 
tremity, for even while he tried to fight for 
his liberty he remembered that there was no 
good to be gained out of takinghim prisoner ; 
he had neither money nor valuables — nothing 
which could excite the cupidity of even a 
starving Bedouin. As this thought crossed 


288 


ZISKA 


his brain, he ceased his struggles abruptly, 
and stood still, panting for breath, when 
suddenly a sound of singing floated towards 
him : 

“ Oh, for the pure cold heart of the Lotus-Lily ! 

A star above 
Is its only love, 

And one brief sigh of its scented breath 

Is all it will ever know of Death ! 

Oh, for the passionless heart of the Dotus-Dily ! ” 

He listened, and all power of resistance 
ebbed slowly away from him ; he became 
perfectly passive — almost apathetic — and 
yielding to the somewhat rough handling of 
his guide, allowed himself to be urged with 
silent rapidity onward over the thick sand, 
till he presently became conscious that he 
was leaving the fresh open air and entering 
a building of some sort, for his feet pressed 
hard earth and stone instead of sand. All 
at once he was forcibly brought to a stand- 
still, and a heavy rolling noise and clang, 
like distant muttered thunder, resounded in 
his ears, followed by dead silence. Then 
his arm was closely grasped again, and he 
was led on, on and on, along what seemed 
to be an interminable distance, for not a 
glimmer of light could be seen under the 
tight folds of the 'bandage across his eyes. 


ZISKA 


289 


Presently the earth shook under him, — 
some heavy substance was moved, and there 
was another booming thunderous noise, ac- 
companied by the falling of chains. 

“ C'est V escalier de Madame la Princesse ! 99 
said the Nubian. “ Prts de la chambre 
nuptiale ! Descendez ! Vite ! ” 

Down — down ! Resistance was useless, 
even had he cared to resist, for he felt as 
though twenty pairs of hands instead of one 
were pushing him violently on all sides ; 
down, still down he went, dumb, blind and 
helpless, till at last he was allowed to stop 
and breathe. His arms were released, the 
bandage was taken from his eyes, the gag 
from his mouth — he was free ! Free — yes ! 
but where ? Thick darkness encompassed 
him ; he stretched out his hands in the murky 
atmosphere and felt nothing. 

“ Ziska ! ” he cried. 

The name sprang up against the silence 
and struck out numberless echoes, and with 
the echoes came a shuddering sigh, that was 
not of them, whispering : 

“ Charmazel ! ” 

Gervase heard it, and a deadly fear, born 
of the supernatural, possessed him. 

“ Ziska ! Ziska ! ” he called again wildly. 

“ Charmazel ! ” answered the penetrating 

19 


290 


ZISKA 


unknown voice ; and as it thrilled upon the 
air like a sob of pain, a dim light began to 
shine through the gloom, waveringly at first, 
then more steadily, till it gradually spread 
wide, illuminating with a pale and spectral 
light the place in which he found himself, — 
a place more weird and wondrous than any 
mystic scene in dream-land. He stumbled 
forward giddily, utterly bewildered, staring 
about him like a man in delirium, and speech- 
less with mingled horror and amazement. 
He was alone — utterly alone in a vast square 
chamber, the walls and roof of which were 
thickly patterned and glistening with gold. 
Squares of gold were set in the very pave- 
ment on which he trod, and at the furthest 
end of the chamber, a magnificent sarco- 
phagus of solid gold, encrusted with thous- 
ands upon thousands of jewels, which were 
set upon it in marvellous and fantastic devices, 
glittered and flashed with the hues of living 
fire. Golden cups, golden vases, a golden 
suit of armor, bracelets and chains of gold 
intermixed with gems, were heaped up 
against the walls and scattered on the floor ; 
and a round shield of ivory inlaid with gold, 
together with a sword in a jewelled sheath, 
were placed in an upright position against 
the head of the sarcophagus, from whence 


ZISKA 


29I 


all the spectral and mysterious light seemed 
to emerge. With thickly beating heart and 
faltering pulses Gervase still advanced, 
gazing half entranced, half terrified at the 
extraordinary and sumptuous splendor 
surrounding him, muttering almost uncon- 
sciously as he moved along : 

“ A king's sepulchre, — a warrior’s tomb ! 
How came I here ? — and why ? Is this a 
trysting-place for love as well as death? — 
and will she come to me 

He recoiled suddenly with a violent start, 
for there, like a strange Spirit of Evil risen 
from the ground, leaning against the great 
gold sarcophagus, her exquisite form scarcely 
concealed by the misty white of her draper- 
ies, her dark hair hanging like a cloud over 
her shoulders, and her black eyes aflame with 
wrath, menace and passion, stood the mys- 
terious Ziska ! 


292 


ZISKA 


CHAPTER XVI. 

STRICKEN dumb with a ghastly super- 
natural terror which far exceeded any or- 
dinary sense of fear, he gazed at her, spell- 
bound, his blood freezing, his very limbs 
stiffening, for now — now she looked like the 
picture he had painted of her ; and Death — 
Death, livid, tortured and horrible, stared 
at him skull-wise from the transparent cover- 
ing of her exquisitely tinted seeming-human 
flesh. Larger and brighter and wilder grew 
her eyes as she fixed them on him, and her 
voice rang through the silence with an un- 
earthly resonance as she spoke and said : 

“ Welcome, my lover, to this abode of 
love ! Welcome to these arms, for whose 
embraces your covetous soul has thirsted un- 
appeased ! Take all of me, for I am yours ! 
— aye, so truly yours that you can never 
escape me ! — never separate from me — no ! 
not through a thousand thousand centuries ! 
Life of my life ! Soul of my soul ! Possess 
me, as I possess you ! — for our two unre- 


ZISKA 


293 


penting spirits form a dual flame in Hell 
which must burn on and on to all eternity ! 
Leap to my arms, master and lord, — king 
and conqueror ! Here, here ! ” and she 
smote her white arms against her whiter 
bosom. “ Take all your fill of burning 
wickedness — of cursed joy ! and then — sleep ! 
as you have slept before, these many thou- 
sand years ! ” 

Still mute and aghast he stared at her ; 
his senses swam, his brain reeled, and then 
slowly, like the lifting of a curtain on the 
last scene of a dire tragedy, a lightning 
thought, a scorching memory, sprang into 
his mind and overwhelmed him like a roll- 
ing wave that brings death in its track. 
With a fierce oath he rushed towards her, 
and seized her hands in his — hands cold as 
ice and clammy as with the dews of the 
grave. 

“ Ziska ! Woman ! Devil ! Speak before 
you drive me to madness ! What passion 
moves you thus — what mystic fooling? In- 
to what place have I been decoyed at your 
bidding ? Why am I brought hither ? 
Speak, speak ! — or I shall murder you ! ” 

“ Nay ! ” she said, and her slight swaying 
form dilated and grew till she seemed to rise 
up from the very ground and to tower above 


294 


ZISKA 


him like an enraged demon evoked from 
mist or flame. “ You have done that once ! 
To murder me twice is beyond your power ! ” 
And as she spoke her hands slipped from 
his like the hands of a corpse newly dead. 
“ Never again can you hurl forth my an- 
guished soul unprepared to the outer dark- 
ness of things invisible; never again! For 
I am free ! — free with an immortal freedom — 
free to work out repentance or revenge, — 
even as Man is free to shape his course for 
good or evil. He chooses evil ; I choose 
revenge ! What place is this, you ask ? M 
and with a majestic gliding motion she ad- 
vanced a little and pointed upward to the 
sparkling gold-patterned roof. “ Above us, 
the Great Pyramid lifts its summit to the 
stars ; and here below, — here where you will 
presently lie, my lover and lord, asleep in 
the delicate bosom of love — -here. . . 

She paused, and a low laugh broke from 
her lips ; then she added slowly and impres- 
sively : 

“ Here is the tomb of Araxes ! ” 

As she spoke, a creeping sense of coldness 
and horror stole into his veins like the ap- 
proach of death, — the strange impressions 
he had felt, the haunting and confusing 
memory he had always had of her face and 


ZISKA 


2 9 5 


voice, the supernatural theories he had lately 
heard discussed, all rushed at once upon his 
mind, and he uttered a loud involuntary cry. 

“ My God ! What frenzy is this ! A 
woman's vain trick ! — a fool’s mad scheme ! 
What is Araxes to me ? — or I to Araxes ? ” 

“ Everything ! ” replied Ziska, the vindic- 
tive demon light in her eyes blazing with a 
truly frightful intensity. “ Inasmuch as ye 
are one and the same ! The same dark soul 
of sin — unpurged, uncleansed through ages 
of eternal fire! Sensualist! Voluptuary! 
Accursed spirit of the man I loved, come 
forth from the present Seeming-of-things ! 
Come forth and cling to me ! Cling ! — for 
the whole forces of a million universes shall 
not separate us ! O Eternal Spirits of the 
Dead ! ” and she lifted her ghostly white 
arms with a wild gesture. “ Rend ye the 
veil ! Declare to the infidel and unbeliever 
the truth of the life beyond death ; the life 
wherein ye and I dwell and work, clamoring 
for late justice ! ” 

Here she sprang forward and caught the 
arm of Gervase with all the fierce eagerness 
of some ravenous bird of prey ; and as she 
did so he knew her grasp meant death. 

“ Remember the days of old, Araxes ! 
Look back, look back from the present to 


296 


ZISKA 


the past, and remember the crimes that are 
still unavenged ! Remember the love sought 
and won ! — remember the broken heart ! — • 
remember the ruined life ! Remember the 
triumphs of war ! — the glories of conquest ! 
Remember the lust of ambition ! — the treach- 
ery ! — the slaughter ! — the blasphemies 
against high Heaven ! Remember the night 
of the Feast of Osiris — the Feast of the Sun ! 
Remember how Ziska-Charmazel awaited her 
lover, singing alone for joy, in blind faith 
and blinder love, his favorite song of the 
Lotus-Lily! The moon was high, as it is 
now ! — the stars glittered above the Pyra- 
mids, as they glitter now! — in the palace 
there was the sound of music and triumph 
and laughter, and a whisper on the air of the 
fickle heart and changeful mood of Araxes ; 
of another face which charmed him, though 
less fair than that of Ziska-Charmazel ! Re- 
member, remember ! ” and she clung closer 
and closer as he staggered backward half 
suffocated by his own emotions and the hor- 
ror of her touch. “ Remember the fierce 
word ! — the quick and murderous blow ! — ■ 
the plunge of the jewelled knife up to the 
hilt in the passionate white bosom of Char- 
mazel ! — the lonely anguish in which she 
died ! Died, — but to live again and pursue 


ZISKA 


297 


her murderer ! — to track him down to his 
grave wherein the king strewed gold, and 
devils strewed curses ! — down, down to the 
end of all his glory and conquest into the 
silence of yon gold-encrusted clay ! And 
out of silence again into sound and light and 
fire, ever pursuing, I have followed — followed 
through a thousand phases of existence ! — 
and I will follow still through limitless space 
and endless time, till the great Maker of this 
terrible wheel of life Himself shall say, 
* Stop ! Here ends even the law of venge- 
ance ! 9 Oh, for ten thousand centuries 
more in which to work my passion and prove 
my wrong ! All the treasure of love de- 
spised ! — all the hope of a life betrayed ! — all 
the salvation of heaven denied ! Tremble, 
Soul of Araxes ! — for hate is eternal, as love 
is eternal ! — the veil is down, and Memory 
stings ! 99 

She turned her face, now spectral and 
pallid as a waning moon, up to him ; her 
form grew thin and skeleton-like, while 
still retaining the transparent outline of its 
beauty ; and he realized at last that no crea- 
ture of flesh and blood was this that clung 
to him, but some mysterious bodiless horror 
of the Supernatural, unguessed at by the out- 
er world of men ! The dews of death stood 


298 


ZISKA 


thick on his forehead ; there was a straining 
agony at his heart, and his breath came in 
quick convulsive gasps ; but worse than his 
physical torture was the overwhelming and 
convincing truth of the actual existence of 
the Spiritual Universe, now so suddenly and 
awfully revealed. What he had all his life 
denied was now declared a certainty ; where 
he had been deaf and blind, he now heard 
and saw. Ziska ! Ziska-Charmazel ! In 
very truth he knew he remembered her ; in 
very truth he knew he had loved her ; in very 
truth he knew he had murdered her ! But 
another still stranger truth was forcing itself 
upon him now ; and this was, that the old love 
of the old old days was arising within him in 
all its strength once more, and that he loved 
her still ! Unreal and terrible as it seemed, it 
was nevertheless a fact, that as he gazed upon 
her tortured face, her beautiful anguished 
eyes, her phantom form, he felt that he would 
give his own soul to rescue hers and lift her 
from the coils of vengeance into love again ! 
Her words awoke vibrating pulsations of 
thought, long dormant in the innermost re- 
cesses of his spirit, which, like so many dag- 
ger-thrusts, stabbed him with a myriad rec- 
ollections ; and as a disguising cloak may 
fall from the figure of a friend in a masquer- 


ZISKA 


299 

ade, so his present-seeming personality 
dropped from him and no longer had any 
substance. He recognized himself as Araxes 
— always the same Soul passing through 
a myriad changes, — and all the links of his 
past and present were suddenly welded to- 
gether in one unbroken chain, stretching 
over thousands of years, every link of which 
he was able to count, mark, and recognize. 
By the dreadful light of that dumb compre- 
hension which flashes on all parting souls at 
the moment of dissolution, he perceived at 
last that not the Body but the Spirit is the 
central secret of life, — not deeds, but thoughts 
evolve creation. Death ? That was a name 
merely ; there was no death, — only a change 
into some other form of existence. What 
change — what form would be his now ? This 
thought startled him — roused him, — and 
once again the low spirit-voice of his long- 
ago betrayed and murdered love thrilled in 
his ears : 

“ Soul of Araxes, cling to my soul ! — for 
this present life is swiftly passing ! No more 
scorn of the Divine can stand whither we are 
speeding, for the Terrible and Eternal Truth 
overshadows us and our destinies ! Closed 
are the gates of Heaven, — open wide are the 
portals of Hell ! Enter with me, my lover 


300 


ZJSKA 


Araxes ! — die as I died, unprepared and 
alone ! Die, and pass out into new life 
again — such life as mine — such torture as 
mine — such despair as mine — such hate as 
mine ! . . . ” 

She ceased abruptly, for he, convinced now 
of the certainty of Immortality, was suddenly 
moved to a strange access of courage and 
resolution. Something sweet and subtle 
stirred in him, — a sense of power, — a hint of 
joy, which completely overcame all dread of 
death. Old love revived, grew stronger in 
his soul, and his gaze rested on the shadowy 
form beside him, no longer with horror but 
with tenderness. She was Ziska-Charmazel, 
— she had been his love — the dearest portion 
of his life — once in the far-off time ; she had 
been the fairest of women — and more than 
fair, she had been faithful! Yes, he remem- 
bered that, as he remembered Her! Every 
curve in her beautiful body had been a joy 
for him alone ; and for him alone her lips, 
sweet and fresh as rosebuds, had kept their 
kisses. She had loved him as few women 
have either heart or strength to love, and 
he had rewarded her fidelity by death and 
eternal torment ! A struggling cry escaped 
him, and he stretched out his arms : 

“ Ziska ! Forgive — forgive ! ” 


ZISICA 


301 


As he uttered the words, he saw her wan 
face suddenly change, — all the terror and 
torture passed from it like a passing cloud, 
— beautiful as an angel’s, it smiled upon him, 
— the eyes softened and flashed with love, 
the lips trembled, the spectral form glowed 
with a living luminance, and a mystic Glory 
glittered above the dusky hair ! Filled with 
ecstasy at the sight of her wondrous loveli- 
ness, he felt nothing of the coldness of death 
at his heart, — a divine passion inspired him, 
and with the last effort of his failing strength 
he strove to gather all the spirit-like beauty 
of her being into his embrace. 

“ Love — Love ! ” he cried. “ Not Hate, 
but Love ! Come back out of the darkness, 
soul of the woman I wronged! Forgive 
me ! Come back to me ! Hell or Heaven, 
what matters it if we are together ! Come 
to me, — come ! Love is stronger than 
Hate ! ” 

Speech failed him ; the cold agony of 
death gripped at his heart and struck him 
mute, but still he saw the beautiful passion- 
ate eyes of a forgiving Love turned glori- 
ously upon him like stars in the black chaos 
whither he now seemed rushing. Then 
came a solemn surging sound as of great 
wings beating on a tempestuous air, and all 


302 


ZISKA 


the light in the tomb was suddenly extin- 
guished. One instant more he stood up- 
right in the thick darkness ; then a burning 
knife seemed plunged into his breast, and 
he reeled forward and fell, his last hold on 
life being the consciousness that soft arms 
were clasping him and drawing him away — 
away— he knew not whither — and that warm 
lips, sweet and tender, were closely pressed on 
his. And presently, out of the heavy gloom 
came a Voice which said : 

“ Peace ! The old gods are best, and the 
law is made perfect. A life demands a life. 
Love’s debt must be paid by Love ! The 
woman’s soul forgives ; the man’s repents, — 
wherefore they are both released from bond- 
age and the memory of sin. Let them go 
hence, the curse is lifted ! ” 

# * * * 

Once more the wavering ghostly light 
gave luminance to the splendor of the tomb, 
and showed where, fallen sideways among 
the golden treasures and mementoes of the 
past, lay the dead body of Armand Gervase. 
Above him gleamed the great jewelled 
sarcophagus ; and within touch of his pas- 
sive hand was the ivory shield and gold- 
hilted sword of Araxes. The spectral radi- 
ance gleamed, wandered and flitted over all 


ZISKA 


303 


things, — now feebly, now brilliantly, — till 
finally flashing with a pale glare on the dark 
dead face, with the proud closed lips and black 
level brows, it flickered out ; and one of the 
many countless mysteries of the Great Pyra- 
mid was again hidden in impenetrable dark- 
ness. 

* * * * 

Vainly Denzil Marray waited next morn- 
ing for his rival to appear. He paced up 
and down impatiently, watching the rosy 
hues of sunrise spreading over the wide 
desert and lighting up the massive features 
of the Sphinx, till as hour after hour passed 
and still Gervase did not come, he hurried 
back to the Mena House Hotel, and meet- 
ing Dr. Maxwell Dean on the way, to him 
poured out his rage and perplexity. 

“ I never thought Gervase was a coward ! ” 
he said hotly. 

“ Nor should you think so now,” returned 
the Doctor, with a grave and preoccupied 
air. “ Whatever his faults, cowardice was 
not one of them. You see, I speak of him 
in the past tense. I told you your intended 
duel would not come off, and I was right. 
Denzil, I don’t think you will ever see either 
Armand Gervase or the Princess Ziska 
again.” 


304 


ZISKA 


Denzil started violently. 

“ What do you mean ? The Princess is 
here, — here in this very house.” 

“ Is she?” and Dr. Dean sighed some- 
what impatiently. “ Well, let us see ! ” 
Then, turning to a passing waiter, he in- 
quired : “ Is the Princess Ziska here still ? ” 

“ No, sir. She left quite suddenly late last 
night ; going on to Thebes, I believe, sir.” 

The Doctor looked meaningly at Denzil. 

“ You hear ? ” 

But Denzil in his turn was interrogating 
the waiter. 

“ Is Mr. Gervase in his room ? ” 

“ No, sir. He went out about ten o’clock 
yesterday evening, and I don’t think he 
is coming back. One of the Princess Ziska’s 
servants — the tall Nubian whom you may 
have noticed, sir — brought a message from 
him to say that his luggage was to be sent to 
Paris, and that the money for his bill would 
be found on his dressing-table. It was all 
right, of course, but we thought it rather 
curious.” 

And glancing deferentially from one to 
the other of his questioners with a smile, the 
waiter went on his way. 

“ They have fled together ! ” said Denzil 
then, in choked accents of fury. “ By 


ZISKA 


305 


Heaven, if I had guessed the plan already 
formed in his treacherous mind, I would 
never have shaken hands with Gervase last 
night ! ” 

“ Oh, you did shake hands ? ” queried Dr. 
Dean, meditatively. “ Well, there was no 
harm in that. You were right. You and 
Gervase will meet no more in this life, believe 
me ! He and the Princess Ziska have un- 
doubtedly, as you say, fled together — but 
not to Thebes ! ” 

He paused a moment, then laid his hand 
kindly on Denzil’s shoulder. 

“ Let us go back to Cairo, my boy, and 
from thence as soon as possible to England. 
We shall all be better away from this terrible 
land, where the dead have far more power 
than the living ! ” 

Denzil stared at him uncomprehendingly. 

“ You talk in riddles ! ” he said, irritably. 
“ Do you think I shall let Gervase escape 
me ? I will track him wherever he has gone, 
— I daresay I shall find him in Paris.” 

Dr /, Dean took one or two slow turns up 
and down the corridor where they were con- 
versing, then stopping abruptly, looked his 
young friend full and steadily in the eyes. 

“ Come, come, Denzil. No more of this 
folly/’ he said, gently. “ Why should you 
20 


306 


ZISKA 


entertain these ideas of vengeance against 
Gervase ? He has really done you no harm. 
He was the natural mate of the woman you 
imagined you loved, — the response to her 
query, — the other half of her being ; and 
that she was and is his destiny, and he hers, 
should not excite your envy or hatred. I 
say you imagined you loved the Princess 
Ziska, — it was a young man’s hot freak of 
passion for an almost matchless beauty, but 
no more than that. And if you would be 
frank with yourself, you know that passion 
has already cooled. I repeat, you will never 
see Gervase or the Princess Ziska again in 
this life ; so make the best of it.” 

“ Perhaps you have assisted him to escape 
me ! ” said Denzil frigidly. 

Dr. Dean smiled. 

“ That’s rather a rough speech, Denzil ! 
But never mind!” he returned. “ Your 
pride is wounded, and you are still sore. 
Suspect me as you please, — make me out a 
new Pandarus, if you like — I shall not be 
offended. But you know — for I have often 
told you — that I never interfere in love 
matters. They are too explosive, too vitally 
dangerous ; outsiders ought never to meddle 
with them. And I never do. Come back 
with me to Cairo. And when we are once 


ZISKA 


307 


more safely established on the solid and un- 
romantic isles of Britain, you will forget all 
about the Princess Ziska ; or if you do re- 
member her, it will only be as a dream in the 
night, a kind of vague shadow and uncer- 
tainty, which will never seriously trouble 
your mind. You look incredulous. I tell 
you at your age love is little more than a 
vision ; you must wait a few years yet before 
it becomes a reality, and then Heaven help 
you, Denzil ! — for you will be a troublesome 
fellow to deal with ! Meanwhile, let us get 
back to Cairo and see Helen. ,, 

Somewhat soothed by the Doctor’s good- 
nature, and a trifle ashamed of his wrath, 
Denzil yielded, and the evening saw them 
both back at the Gezireh Palace Hotel, 
where of course the news of the sudden dis- 
appearance of Armand Gervase with the 
Princess Ziska created the utmost excite- 
ment. Helen Murray shivered and grew 
pale as death when she heard it ; lively old 
Lady Fulkeward simpered and giggled, and 
declared it was “ the most delightful thing 
she had ever heard of ! ” — an elopement in 
the desert was “ so exquisitely romantic ! ” 
Sir Chetwynd Lyle wrote a conventional 
and stilted account of it for his paper, and 
ponderously opined that the immorality 


3°8 


ZISKA. 


of Frenchmen was absolutely beyond any 
decent journalist’s powers of description. 
Lady Chetwynd Lyle, on the contrary, said 
that the “ scandal ” was not the fault of Ger- 
vase ; it was all “ that horrid woman,” who had 
thrown herself at his head. Ross Courtney 
thought the whole thing was “ queer ; ” and 
young Lord Fulkeward said there was some- 
thing about it he didn’t quite understand, — 
something “ deep,” which his aristocratic 
quality of intelligence could not fathom. 
And society talked and gossiped till Paris and 
London caught the rumor, and the name 
of the famous French artist, who had so 
strangely vanished from the scene of his tri- 
umphs with a beautiful woman whom no one 
had ever heard of before, was soon in every- 
body’s mouth. No trace of him or of the 
Princess Ziska could be discovered ; his port- 
manteau contained no letters or papers, — 
nothing but a few clothes ; his paint-box 
and easel were sent on to his deserted studio 
in Paris, and also a blank square of canvas, 
on which, as Dr. Dean and others knew, 
had once been the curiously-horrible por- 
trait of the Princess. But that appalling 
“ first sketch ” was wiped out and clean 
gone as though it had never been painted, 
and Dr. Dean called Denzil’s attention to 


ZISKA 


309 


the fact. But Denzil thought nothing of it, 
as he imagined that Gervase himself had 
obliterated it before leaving Cairo. 

A few of the curious among the gossips 
went to see the house the Princess had lately 
occupied, where she had “ received ” society 
and managed to shock it as well. It was 
shut up, and looked as if it had not been 
inhabited for years. And the gossips said 
it was “ strange, very strange ! ” and con- 
fessed themselves utterly mystified. But 
the fact remained that Gervase had disap- 
peared and the Princess Ziska with him. 
“ However,” said Society, “ they can't pos- 
sibly hide themselves for long. Two such 
remarkable personalities are bound to appear 
again somewhere. I daresay we shall come 
across them in Paris or on the Riviera. The 
world is much too small for the holding of 
a secret.” 

And presently, with the approach of 
spring, and the gradual break-up of the Cairo 
“ season,” Denzil Murray and his sister 
sailed from Alexandria en route for Venice. 
Dr. Dean accompanied them ; so did the 
Fulkewards and Ross Courtney. The 
Chetwynd-Lyles went by a different steamer, 
“ old ” Lady Fulkeward being quite too much 
for the patience of those sweet but still unen- 


3io 


ZISKA 


gaged “ girls ” Muriel and Dolly. One night 
when the great ship was speeding swiftly 
over a calm sea, and Denzil, lost in sorrow- 
ful meditation, was gazing out over the 
trackless ocean with pained and passionate 
eyes which could see nothing but the witch- 
ing and exquisite beauty of the Princess 
Ziska, now possessed and enjoyed by Ger- 
vase, Dr. Dean touched him on the arm and 
said : 

“ Denzil, have you ever read Shakes- 
peare? ” 

Denzil started and forced a smile. 

44 Why, yes, of course ! ” 

44 Then you know the lines — 

4 There are more things in heaven and earth, Horatio, 
Than are dreamt of in your philosophy ? ’ 

The Princess Ziska was one of those 
4 things/ ” 

Denzil regarded him in wonderment. 

“ What do you mean ? ” 

44 Oh, of course, you will think me insane,” 
said the Doctor, resignedly. 44 People always 
take refuge in thinking that those who tell 
them uncomfortable truths are lunatics. 
You’ve heard me talk of ghosts? — ghosts 
that walk and move about us like human 
beings ? — and they are generally very brilliant 


ZISKA 


311 


and clever impersonations of humanity, too 
— and that nevertheless are not human ?” 

Denzil assented. 

“ The Princess Ziska was a ghost ! ” con- 
cluded the Doctor, folding his arms very 
tightly across his chest and nodding defiantly. 

“ Nonsense ! ” cried Denzil. “You are 
mad ! ” 

“ Precisely the remark I thought you would 
make ! ” and Dr. Dean unfolded his arms again 
and smiled triumphantly. “ Therefore, my 
dear boy, let us for the future avoid this sub- 
ject. I know what I know ; I can distinguish 
phantoms from reality, and I am not deceived 
by appearances. But the world prefers igno- 
rance to knowledge, and even so let it be. 
Next time I meet a ghost I’ll keep my own 
counsel ! ” He paused a moment, — then 
added: “You remember I told you I was 
hunting down that warrior of old time, 
Araxes?” 

Denzil nodded, a trifle impatiently. 

“ Well,” resumed the Doctor slowly, — 
“ Before we left Egypt I found him ! But 
how I found him, and where, is my secret ! ” 

* * * * 

* * * * 

% * * 


312 


ZISKA 


Society still speaks occasionally of Armand 
Gervase, and wonders in its feeble way when 
he will be “ tired ” of the Egyptian beauty 
he ran away with, or she of him. Society 
never thinks very far or cares very much 
for anything long, but it does certainly expect 
to see the once famous French artist “ turn 
up ” suddenly, either in his old quarters in 
Paris, or in one or the other of the fashionable 
resorts of the Riviera. That he should be 
dead has never occurred to anyone, except 
perhaps Dr. Maxwell Dean. But Dr. Dean 
has grown extremely reticent — almost surly ; 
and never answers any questions concerning 
his Scientific Theory of Ghosts, a work which, 
when published, created a great deal of excite- 
ment, owing to its singularity and novelty of 
treatment. There was the usual “ hee-hawing” 
from the donkeys in the literary pasture, who 
fondly imagined their brayings deserved to be 
considered in the light of serious opinion ; — 
and then after a while the book fell into the 
hands of scientists only, — men who are begin- 
ning to understand the discretion of silence, 
and to hold their tongues as closely as the 
Egyptian priests of old did, aware that the 
great majority of men are never ripe for 
knowledge. Quite lately Dr. Dean attended 
two weddings, — one being that of “ old ” 


ZISKA 


313 


Lady Fulkeward, who has married a very 
pretty young fellow of five-and-twenty, whose 
dearest consideration in life is the shape of 
his shirt-collar ; the other, that of Denzil 
Murray, who has wedded the perfectly well- 
born, well-bred and virtuous, if somewhat 
cold-blooded, daughter of his next-door 
neighbor in the Highlands. Concerning his 
Egyptian experience he never speaks , — he 
lives the ordinary life of the Scottish land- 
owner, looking after his tenantry, considering 
the crops, preserving the game, and clearing 
fallen timber ; — and if the glowing face of 
the beautiful Ziska ever floats before his 
memory, it is only in a vague dream from 
which he quickly rouses himself with a 
troubled sigh. His sister Helen has never 
married. Lord Fulkeward proposed to her 
but was gently rejected, whereupon the dis- 
consolate young nobleman took a journey to 
the States and married the daughter of a 
millionaire oil-merchant instead. Sir Chet- 
wynd Lyle and his pig-faced spouse still 
thrive and grow fat on the proceeds of the 
Daily Dial , and there is faint hope that one 
of their “ girls "will wed an aspiring journal- 
ist, — a bold adventurer who wants “ a share 
in the paper" somehow, even if he has to 
marry Muriel or Dolly in order to get it. 


3i4 


ZISKA 


Ross Courtney is the only man of the party 
once assembled at the Gezireh Palace Hotel 
who still goes to Cairo every winter, fascinated 
thither by an annually recurring dim notion 
that he may “ discover traces ” of the lost 
Armand Gervase and the Princess Ziska. 
And he frequently accompanies the numerous 
sight-seers who season after season drive 
from Cairo to the Pyramids, and take pleas- 
ure in staring at the Sphinx with all the im- 
pertinence common to pigmies when con- 
templating greatness. But more riddles than 
that of the Sphinx are lost in the depths of 
the sandy desert ; and more unsolved prob- 
lems lie in the recesses of the past than even 
the restless and inquiring spirit of modern 
times will ever discover ; — and if it should 
ever chance that in days to come, the secret 
of the movable floor of the Great Pyramid 
should be found, and the lost treasures of 
Egypt brought to light, there will probably 
be much discussion and marvel concerning 
the Golden Tomb of Araxes. For the hiero- 
glyphs on the jewelled sarcophagus speak of 
him thus and say: — 

“ Araxes was a Man of Might, far exceed- 
ing in Strength and Beauty the common sons 
of men. Great in War, Invincible in Love, 
he did Excel in Deeds of Courage and of 


ZISKA 


315 


Conquest, — and for whatsoever Sins he did 
in the secret Weakness of humanity commit, 
the Gods must judge him. But in all that 
may befit a Warrior, Amenhotep The King 
doth give him honor, — and to the Spirits of 
Darkness and of Light his Soul is here com- 
mended to its Rest.” 

Thus much of the fierce dead hero of old 
time, — but of the mouldering corpse that lies 
on the golden floor of the same tomb, its 
skeleton hand touching, almost grasping, the 
sword of Araxes, what shall be said ? Noth- 
ing — since the Old and the New, the Past and 
the Present, are but as one moment in the 
countings of eternity, and even with a late 
repentance Love pardons all. 


FINIS. 



PRINTED AT THE UNIVERSITY PRESS, 
IN CAMBRIDGE, MASSACHUSETTS, 
FOR STONE AND KIMBALL, PUBLISH- 
ERS, NEW YORK, MDCCCXCVII 



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